


let's save up for something new

by amyscascadingtabs



Series: the santiago-peralta family stories [2]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Baby Fic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Fluff, First Time Parents, Fluff, Future Fic, Healthy Relationships, Kid Fic, Married Couple, One Shot Collection, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-05-16 23:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyscascadingtabs/pseuds/amyscascadingtabs
Summary: Having kids and becoming parents is a wild ride. It’s chaotic, it’s messy and it makes you forget what it feels like to ever be fully rested. It’s also the most magical thing they’ve ever experienced.collection of shorter peraltiago pregnancy, baby & kid stories.





	1. in the blink of an eye (there’s a new life in front of my face)

**Author's Note:**

> (title: novels by rusty clanton)  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's an hours-old daughter and two overwhelmed parents.
> 
> Title from Everything Changes from the musical Waitress. (second piece of writing I’ve named after that musical, but it has some damn good lyrics)

Sunlight shining through the hospital blinds wakes her long before she feels rested enough. Even the November sun she usually welcomes is harsh and unforgiving in her eyes this morning, but she guesses this is a side effect of having obtained far from the amount of sleep she needs after the 32 hours it's been since her waters broke. It’s not just sleep - she wants a shower, she wants to not feel like she’s been run over by a truck, she wants to not be sore in places and ways absolutely no one could possibly enjoy and she wants about three hundred cups of coffee now that she can finally drink it - but you can’t always get everything you want. Maybe the universe has to be even stricter with that rule, Amy thinks, when it blesses you with what she’s waking up to.

 

She shifts carefully in the uncomfortable hospital bed for a better view of her two favorite people in the world. One of them is a lot smaller and much newer to the world than the other, cooped up close to her father’s chest with a minuscule hand keeping a tight grip on his pinkie. They built a barrier around her with help of blankets and a pillow when they were trying to get her to fall asleep a mere hour and a half ago according to the wall clock in their room, a way to keep her as close to them as possible without fearing rolling over and crushing her tiny frame, and it’s in that improvised version of a babynest she’s sleeping soundly now. 

Their daughter.

 

Amy doubts those words will ever fully make sense to her. She went through a whole pregnancy and spent months patiently sharing her body with this little thing that has grown from a cluster of cells to a seven pound nineteen inches tiny human, she has framed pictures from ultrasounds and vivid memories of someone aiming punches at her ribs and sleeping on her bladder, but seeing the actual person she  _ grew _ being there and alive and breathing outside of her is still the most overwhelming sensation of her life. Their girl has on pajamas with baby sheep on them as her very first item of clothing, bringing up memories of when they bought it and Jake protested that no kid could possibly be that small, but it's actually verging on being too big for her. 

 

She knows she has tons of texts and calls to get back to. She has to shower so she can feel okay with today's scheduled visits and she really wants to change out of the hospital gown she’s still in, but it feels impossible even for Amy Santiago to rush those details when there’s a real live baby with tons of dark hair and the cutest little nose asleep next to her. 

 

“You should be sleeping.”  Jake’s voice is groggy, matching his sleep-deprived look of hair sticking up in every direction and his red and grey flannel a wrinkly mess. 

“I’m fine. I slept a few hours.”

“And before those hours you were kind of, you know,  _ in labor _ . For a little over 24 hours. Not sure if you remember.” Laughing is a bit painful, every physical action is for her right now, but she does it anyway. 

“There are some vague memories of that, weirdly enough.” 

“Did I tell you that you were awesome?”

“Mm-hmm, but feel free to repeat it.”

“You were awesome.” He places a kiss to her forehead. “The awesomest. Well, I guess our daughter did pretty great too. I would say my best contribution to the party was the fact that I managed to convince Charles not to join us in the delivery room.”

“Super grateful for that”, she admits with a weary smile. 

“I did have to promise him the first visiting shift. It was the only way out. He’ll be here in two hours.” She groans, exhausted only by the thought of Charles many and likely invasive questions . “Our parents are also coming by later, but I made the rest of the squad wait until tomorrow. Best not to tire her out, I thought.”

“Good to know she's the boss of you already.”

“Babe, you know she’s going to be the boss of both of us.” Jake is stroking their daughter’s squeezed fists and Amy runs her fingers through the soft hair, neither of them wanting to divert their attention from the child safe asleep between them.

 

She only does so for the purpose of taking her long awaited shower and even that is with reluctance. It’s worth it - who knew a shower and a chance to wear her own (well, originally Jake’s) hoodie and stretchy sweatpants could ever be so blissful - but it’s still not until she’s back in bed with their now awake daughter in her arms she relaxes.

 

“Crazy to think we made this, huh?” A pair of brown eyes, confused and innocent and so much a copy of her father’s already, are gazing at her, and it’s the best eye contact she’s ever had. 

“We sure did. “ Jake’s face lights up with unbridled excitement as a realisation hits him. “Title of our sextape!” 

“Real mature.” She whispers the next words to their daughter, who appears rather unimpressed by the whole conversation. “Your dad is a real dork. You’ll have to get used to it.”

“I can hear you!”

“It’s true!”

“Fair.” Jake puts down the wrapper from his third granola bar on their bedside table - they’re eating leftovers from the snack buffet he made sure to provide them with yesterday as temporary breakfast, knowing Charles will most likely be bringing them food - and scoots closer to her. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Almost as much as this little copy of you.”

“Really? Kind of early to tell, but I think she looks like you.” He leans over to plant another soft kiss on Amy’s lips, then giving his daughter the lightest and most careful of forehead kisses to which she reacts by squinting her eyes in disapproval. “We can let Charles be the judge in ten minutes. Get ready for the crying feast.”

“Can’t wait.”

The child in her arms grunts in response,  as if she can’t wait either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Kudos and comments are the absolute best thing I know so please consider leaving them and making my day! They really do mean the world :’)


	2. best blur in the universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a lot of worrying, an ultrasound and a speech in need of improvement (maybe).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually planning on posting this one first, but I wasn’t as happy with it as I was with the other piece, so I’m just posting it as the second thing instead! Hope you enjoy it :)

Amy starts crying the moment they drive into the parking lot.

It’s probably the fourth or so time she’s cried today, because those pregnancy hormones are coming in _strong_ and they’re definitely not helping her already finely honed over-thinking skills _,_ but it still takes Jake by surprise when she starts shaking and snivelling like there’s no tomorrow.

“Hey. Ames.” He puts his hand on her thigh the moment they park, giving it a comforting squeeze. “It’s going to be fine. You know, most first-time parents actually look forward to their first real scan.”

“I - I know”, she says in a faltering voice, dabbing at her cheeks with the tissue he gives her. “But if something’s really wrong with the baby, this is when they’ll see it. If its brain isn’t developing correctly, if there’s something wrong with the heart, they’ll know. This is when they could tell us our baby is d-”

“Sschh. No. Don’t.” He wraps an arm around her, allowing her to lean into his shoulder while he plays with her hair, wiping away the stubborn tears for her when they keep falling. “Our baby is fine. We saw them for that quick scan two months ago and they were fine then. Weren’t you feeling movement just yesterday?”

“Flutters. But all the websites say they can be easily mistaken for bowel movements. Maybe that’s all they were and our baby is…”

“Completely fine with everything in its right place and you’re stressing about nothing.” He stops her before she finishes her macabre sentence. Deep inside he’s worried too, an anxious voice in the back of his head whispering threats about the possibility of something forcing them to terminate the pregnancy they didn’t exactly plan but have found themselves so happy for. His anxiety, though, is nothing compared to Amy’s. “Look, I know you’re scared, but there’s nothing we can do other than going in there and having the scan.”

“You have to be there with me. You’re not leaving. Not even for a second.” Her gaze is focused, staring at him with terrifying intensity. “You’re not closing your _eyes_.”

“Got it, babe.”

“Good.” She unclasps the seat belt and he can feel her relax slightly against his chest. “You really think it’s all going to be okay?”

“Of course it will.” Jake moves the hand not around her shoulders to rest atop the still small, but more visible in a stretchy maroon t-shirt than in the sergeant’s uniform she’s started wearing one size large, bump. Amy laces her fingers with his in response. “Let’s go in before we’re late for the appointment, yeah?”

 

She doesn’t let go of his hand as their names are called and they’re led down a corridor decorated with pictures of babies smiling so idyllically Jake is convinced the images must be fake somehow. It continues to rest there as they’re led into a dimly lit room, and she has to climb onto an examination bed and answer what seems like a billion and three questions about how she’s been feeling.

“Any symptoms bothering you?”

“Not really. Some nausea still if I haven’t eaten. A little out of breath if I move too quickly.”

“Understandable and completely normal. What’s your work situation like? Can you rest?”

“I’m a cop”, she states matter-of-factly, aiming a smile at Jake which he’s quick to reciprocate. “Well, we’re both cops. But I outrank him.” This earns them a laugh from the ultrasound technician.

“Good to know. You’re on desk duty then, I hope?”

“Since two weeks back.”

“Great. As long as you’re not out in the field, you should be able to work for as long as you’re comfortable. Have you started preparing? Looking at cribs, strollers?” Amy bites her lip at that, looking at Jake to answer.

“Uhm.. we’ve both been a little nervous, I think”, he admits. “We’re planning to.”

“I’d recommend you to start. A pregnancy goes by quicker than you think.” The technician gives Amy a comforting smile she makes a half-hearted attempt at returning. “Let’s see if we can help some of the nerves with a scan.”

He almost thinks his hand is going to bruise from the intensity his wife squeezes it with.

 

It takes some prodding and a little bit of waiting, but suddenly there’s a grey and white image on the screen to the left of them. The white blur is sort of shaped like an alien and looks pretty far from what he knows actual babies to look like, but it's moving around, kicking and waving what he guesses is an arm at them and _heck, he’s actually crying now_. (So is Amy, but he’s not sure she ever really stopped.) Their twenty week old foetus has a head and limbs, a spine and an adorable little nose and even though he’s been aware for three long months he’s about to have a kid with the woman of his dreams, even though he’s gotten at least somewhat used to the mind-blowing fact, seeing actual proof of the tiny thing being there and alive and existing is enchanting in a way he’s never known. It doesn’t matter to him that their baby looks blurry and a bit confusing to him now. It’s still theirs. Far as he is concerned, this makes it the best and most lovable little blur in the universe.

 

“All organs there and looking healthy, growing excellently, lots of fluid - have you felt any movement yet?”

“Some flutters, nothing from the outside. Is it bad if I haven’t?” She sounds worried still, but he knows her well enough to recognise this voice as only a degree one on the Santiago anxiety scale, far from the panic of twenty minutes ago.

“No, it’s normal if it’s your first. You should feel it any day now.”

“Told you”, Jake whispers in her ear, but she just rolls her eyes. “Our baby’s perfect. Knew it.”

* * *

 

They stop by the precinct after, Amy clutching the ultrasound pictures in her hand as they step out of the elevator hand in hand.

“America’s dream parents, coming through!” Charles practically yells as he sees them arrive. “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, weren’t you guys supposed to be off today?” Rosa gives Amy’s baby bump a meaningful look. “That thing’s new.”

“Not new, just not hiding in oversized uniform.”

“The reason we’re here”, Jake proclaims to the small crowd now gathering around them. “Is because we have ultrasound pictures of the cutest and most awesome unborn baby in the history of ever to present to you. Everyone wait your turn”, he continues as his wife hands the prints to a sobbing Charles, “and be careful, we paid for those and we have to get them both framed _and_ put into the scrapbook...”

“God, you two are cheesy”, mutters Gina, but she’s smiling at them in a way he knows is genuine.

“Terry still thinks his own babies were cuter, but he’s sure this one will be adorable, too.”

“Alright, Terry, appreciate the honesty - Captain!” His face lights up even more when he sees their commanding officer walking towards them, arms crossed and expression as classically inscrutable as ever. “Care to see pictures of your two best detectives finest work?” Amy punches him rather indiscreetly in the shoulder for the joke. He considers it worth it.

“Ah, so that is why you’re interrupting everyone’s workflow. You have five more minutes.” Rosa hands Holt the pictures, a pregnant (pun intended) silence filling the room as everyone waits for his reaction. “I can see the foetus looks... healthy and well developed. Congratulations, you two.” He offers them a rare smile, and Jake doesn’t need to look at his wife to know she’s tearing up again.

 

(He’s not far from it either. Between the two of them, they’re really doing a lot of crying today.)

* * *

 

They spend the evening researching and bookmarking all the different baby products they could possibly need, because what didn’t truly feel real to them this morning has become infinitely more so with a few black and white prints that somehow are the best thing they have ever laid eyes on.

 

“There’s so much to plan”, Amy groans when she finally adds the last pages for the day to the pregnancy binder. The creation is already exceeding their honeymoon binder in size, a feat in itself, and he has a growing suspicion this one is only the first. “We really should have started earlier.”

“I put together almost an entire wedding reception in a day once”, he reminds her then. “We have five more _months_. We can do this.” She carefully places the binder on the floor next to their bed, wrapping her share of the floral comforter around herself before snuggling up closer to him.

“Can we go look at some baby clothes after work tomorrow?”

“Totally! One condition - I get to order the awesome Die Hard onesie I saw.”

“If I get to order all of the Harry Potter ones. _And_ at least two with math puns.”  Jake almost wants to veto her at the mention of his least favorite subject in school, but the way she pouts her lip and leans her head to the side has got nothing on his hate for quadratic equations.

“Ugh, fine. But it’s your fault our kid will turn out a giant nerd.” He gives her a quick peck on the lips, then directs his attention toward the bump he still hasn’t quite gotten used to seeing. Even though he remembers the baby app he’s downloaded to his phone telling him hearing isn’t developed for a while yet he slides himself down, facing Amy’s bump as if in conversation with it. “You hear that, kiddo? Your mom’s fault, not mine, so it’s her you should be mad at.”

“Very funny.”

“Kidding. She’s amazing. You’ll love her, everyone does, even her exes…”

“Change the subject, Peralta.”

“Gladly. Point is she’s the greatest, but I’m sure you know it already, what with living inside her and all. Anyway, we both love you lots, and…”

“Jake.” Amy flinches and he shuts up immediately, but she simply takes his hand and moves it to the lower right part of her abdomen. “Keep talking.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know! Stall! I think I feel something.”

“Ehrm, okay. Pressure.” He coughs, cursing his own nervousness. Their kid can’t even hear him and he’s already nervous. “God, this is a terrible speech. My apologies. You’re lucky you don’t understand much yet. But don’t worry about that.You’ll have plenty of time to learn all the important things like Die Hard quotes and Taylor Swift lyrics and the Miranda rights, and your mom and I will take turns reading Harry Potter to you..”

 

He feels it then, the lightest of shifts underneath his hand that could be, but isn’t, anything.

“Wait - was that...?”

“Think so.” Amy presses her hand to the same spot. “Come on, kiddo. Do it again.” Another, weak but clearly there, nudge against both of their hands follows her words. Then yet another. The movements continue for a few more minutes, during which they both lay there mesmerized, because this is real, this is happening, screw Amy’s anxiety and Jake’s disbelief.

“Can’t believe my incredible speech was all it took”, he says when the shifts and nudges eventually cease.

“Hearing isn’t developed before at least 23 weeks, babe, but you keep telling yourself that.”

“I know. It definitely needed some improvement anyway.” She laughs at him then, the laugh which has her eyes gleaming and dimples showing, and though he loves her in all situations Jake thinks he might just prefer this to her crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Sorry about the medical inaccuracies if there are any! I tried my best to research what happens at an ultrasound but some of it might not be perfectly accurate soz soz
> 
> -”short drabble” I say and write a 2k essay
> 
> -I called this my toddler fic not because it includes a toddler but because even though I loved it a lot, it threw a shitton of tantrums and just didn’t want to cooperate with me AT ALL but I thiink this works. Somewhat. 
> 
> -Kudos and comments make me do my own signature dork dance xoxo
> 
> -Come chat with me about b99 and these dorks and their kids on tumblr @amyscascadingtabs if you wanna!!
> 
> -I have so much inspiration for these it's literally ridiculous? Drabble #3 is scheduled for friday and I also have a 3k oneshot ready to post so look forward to that at some point? Thank you for reading, I love all of you more than Terry loves yogurt ♡


	3. worst walk ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a slow walk down hospital corridors and a trip down memory lane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this came from a headcanon post on @fourdrinkamy’s tumblr, thank you so much for letting me use it! <3  
> It was supposed to be short but turned out 1200 words so… pretty much like anything I write. word limit? don’t know her.

“This is the worst walk I’ve ever been on”, Amy declares before taking another waddling step toward the end of the hospital corridor they’ve been promenading up and down for twenty minutes now. For once, Jake doesn’t even have to think about increasing his pace to keep up with her. (She’s really not going very fast.)

“Really? It beats the eighty minute freezing walk on our squad trip to the beach house five years ago?” 

“Are you kidding? That was amazing _.  _ I was drunk and not in any pain. Both of which are conditions I would  _ love _ to be in right now - ah, ow, nope.” She comes to a sudden halt in the middle of the walkway. “Contraction.”

“Deep breaths.” He’s as quick to press the start button on his timer app as Amy is quick to frown in discomfort, leaning herself forward to rest her body weight against him. “In and out.”

“ _ Iknowhowtobreathethankyouverymuch _ .”

“‘Course you do.” A nurse sends them a sympathetic look walking by, but he’s too focused on his wife to react. “Tell me when it's over.” She takes a few more trembling breaths.

“Now.” He presses the app’s stop-button.

“Thirty-two seconds, still eight minutes apart. Pain level?”

“Shitty?”

“You gotta be more specific, babe.”

“Getting worse.”

“Good thing we’re in one of the few situations where that’s positive.” He can’t do much, he’s been frustrated about it for the ten hours of this they’ve already had, but he fixes her hair and gives her a kiss and refuses to get discouraged. It’s not much, but it's something. “Come on, let’s keep walking.” She hums in annoyance as he leads her around the corner, entering another corridor with the same grey plastic floors that squeak under his sneakers and walls in a too-bright shade of yellow. 

 

It’s all a bit overwhelming for him, honestly. It’s possible some dizziness is down to how he hasn’t slept - Amy tried to make him go back to sleep at some point during their long night before she froze in pain again and he scratched the idea - but he can’t shake the feeling most of it is simply brutal, unadulterated shock over the fact that it's really happening. 

 

It’s the 14th of November 2019, making it five years and ten months to the day since his then-colleague now-wife flirted with him for twenty seconds and he became obsessed with her forever (yeah, he remembers the date by heart, so what) and it’s most likely the birthday of their first child.

It’s a lot to take in. 

In a few hours he’ll be a  _ dad _ , and he would be fully freaking out over this if he weren’t so busy pushing it aside to focus on Amy. 

 

She’s currently waddling her way forward with an arm around his shoulders for support, and even though she looks a little (a lot) like a penguin, the assemblance heightened by his black hoodie over her white hospital shirt and black sweatpants, she is still the most badass person in the world to him. (He also happens to think she’s the cutest penguin ever.)

He hasn't slept, but he hasn’t had to experience what from the grimaces on her face when she breathes through it appears to be a distinctly unpleasant sensation, every ten minutes or less for ten hours. If the disappointment when their midwife told them what needs to be ten centimetres for their kid to be ready to enter the world was still only three was bad for him, he can’t imagine what it was like for Amy.

It's why they’re on this walk now - movement is supposed to help speed things up - and he’s praying it's helping because he doesn't know how much longer he can stand seeing her in pain.

(However long it takes. Obviously. He just hates it.)

Still he only has to  _ see _ her in pain whereas she actually has to give birth to a freaking human. As much as he feels like they should be, he knows the two truly aren’t comparable.

 

“You know what's crazy?” Her voice jolts him back to reality.

“I’m guessing how badass you are?”

“Sure.” The smile is modest and speaks of weariness, but at least it’s there, calming him. “Just.. the fact that we’re here. You and I.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not exactly something I would have predicted shaking hands with you my first day at the Nine-Nine”, she says. “You think anyone would?”

“I’m sure Charles claims to.” Jake snort-laughs at the thought of his best friend's early predictions for his future with the precinct’s new detective, most of which turned out right in the end.

“Right. Except Charles.” She shakes her head. “Still blows my mind how I’m literally about to have a baby with the person who once planned the world's most intricate date to rub his victory over a stupid bet in my face.”

“It is pretty crazy.” He grins as he remembers another memory from their early days.“You remember the Jimmy Jabs?”

“The ones where you wouldn't stop flirting with me? Yeah.”

“Are you saying  _ I knocked you up _ ?” He jokes, imitating their mid-competition banter from all those years ago. 

“You sure did!” They break out into laughter at the same time, earning them odd looks from hospital staff walking past.

“Yeah, this definitely wasn't what I imagined when finding you outside my door the night we got together for real.”

“Screw light and breezy.” She nods. “Guess we really did screw it.”

“Guess we really did screw it, title of your sextape?”

“Oh, you…” Amy doesn't finish the sentence before she stops again, and he doesn't need verbal confirmation to press the timer when she grabs onto his hoodie, breathing labored and eyes closed in focus.

Yeah, he’s not the one who's having it worst today.

 

They walk around the hospital for another two hours, reminiscing about everything from his slow dance with Gina’s great-aunt at the Boyle-Linetti wedding to the romantic cruise that turned into a criminal hunt. They don't talk about the painful memories, about the six months Jake spent in Florida or his time in prison, but remembering the good ones help pass the time.

 

They eventually make their way down to the cafeteria for a stable lunch of orange soda and pizza versus fruit smoothie and pasta salad, Amy stealing sips of his soda until he straight up gives it to her. At the table next to them two women are cooing over a baby who can’t possibly be more than a few days old and is fast asleep in a baby car seat, and Jake struggles to lift his eyes from the new family.

“That’s going to be us so soon”, Amy whispers. “What a crazy day.”

“The craziest.” He takes her hand with both of his, returning a smile from one of the women before shifting his focus back to his wife. “But also… every single day I get to be with someone as amazing as you is crazy to me.”

“Wedding vows, really?”

“Always.” He gives her a swift kiss on the forehead. “You ready to go do this?”

“Like I have a choice. But yeah.” She gives the family next to them one last, longing look. “I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -It’s Pride Month so you best believe I’mma throw a same-sex couple in there because I’m gay and I can
> 
> -The research I did for this included googling “what to eat before labor” which is something I definitely haven’t googled before. There’s a first for everything I guess
> 
> -I don’t actually have a headcanon for when I want peraltiago baby to be born, but I’ve mentioned November a few times in the fic so I put the numbers 1 to 30 in a randomized generator and got 14 so that’s what I went with. Revolutionary right
> 
>  
> 
> -Please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this! If you have details or quotes or a small thing you loved most in this fic that kind of stuff is the absolute best to hear and melts my frozen heart!! (did you love the penguin description because I loved the penguin description and did you appreciate my attempt at another title of your sextape-joke)


	4. love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there’s an almost-breakdown and an unexpected declaration of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to publish this much later in the week but I got such a wonderful response after the last thing so you get it a bit earlier. Some toddler fluff and Amy’s pov for you to switch things up (and because I missed writing it). Hope you’ll like it ❤

Amy Santiago-Peralta has been a mom for nineteen months and three days; longer if one intends to count the almost nine months she spent growing the child who’s currently bawling their eyes out because they’ve been forbidden to play with the packet of batteries they somehow managed to get their hands on.

She has officially zero clue what she’s doing.

 

At least that’s how she feels as she makes fruitless attempts to calm the toddler down from the tantrum. It doesn’t matter how many times Amy tries to repeat in a soothing voice while bending the item out of small but determined fists that  _ no,  _ batteries are not toys and are in fact very dangerous to be playing with, her daughter’s not listening. It’s driving her nuts. 

 

Jake’s working late at the precinct, leaving her on solo mommy duty for the night. This would have been completely fine if Leah hadn’t been overtired from refusing to take her afternoon nap, and Amy hadn’t had a ton of administrative paperwork she would appreciate an opportunity to catch up with, and  _ someone  _ hadn’t left this goddamned pack of batteries out on the couch table for a pair of curious hands to find and  _ it’s not fine _ .

It’s awful. It’s awful and she wants to be the ideal mother who possesses the skill to calm her own daughter down from meltdowns by the most exemplary methods, all listed in one of her many parenting binders, but it’s seven p.m. and she’s alone with Leah and she’s wiped out after an intense half workday and a nowhere near relaxing afternoon. So she does what every other parent desperate for a quiet moment to themselves would do; she places her child in front of a Peppa Pig video on the iPad and retrieves a pink pacifier from the emergency box of them. She tries her very best not to break out in tears of relief when the heartbreaking sounds of her daughter’s crying ceases and changes to random bouts of laughter when something particularly funny happens on the screen.

 

Amy knows she can’t possibly be doing everything wrong. If she was, there is no way this kid would have developed from a tiny human who refused to fall asleep somewhere other than on her father’s chest for the first month of her life to the always inquisitive and energetic toddler with the goofiest grin on Earth she is today. She just wishes it was easier, and she wishes Jake was home, because he’s ten times more skilled than she is at making their kid come down from her peaks of unmitigated rage, and he’s also ten times more skilled at calming  _ her _ down than she is herself. 

 

A high-pitched sound of laughter catches her attention as she’s about to pick up her phone to text him and ask if there’s any way he could make it home earlier tonight. It’s only a few seconds long, but it’s enough to warm her heart in a way she never knew before this child and it’s enough to make her smile again. 

“Mama?”

“Yeah?” The texting and the paperwork will have to wait, because her daughter has abandoned screen and pacifier to try and climb up onto her mother’s lap. “What is it?”

“Bah?”

“Bath?” Leah nods. “You know what, Lee, I think you’re right. It's almost bedtime.You’re so smart.” She lifts the little girl the last bit, and relaxation fills her when the kid clings her arms around Amy’s chest to hang onto her mom like the monkeys on her own t-shirt. “How do you feel about bath-time and oatmeal, then pajamas and stories?” The toddler nods an enthusiastic yes, the mocha curls on her head bouncing as she does. 

 

Forty-five minutes later Amy’s blouse and jeans are soaked from bath water, forcing her to change into her own pj’s, and Leah’s chair is in dire need of sanitation from oatmeal stains. Even though it goes against what the binder on sleep says and breaks all the rules about how kids need to learn to fall asleep in their own room, Amy’s too tired to argue when her daughter asks to fall asleep in her parents bed tonight, and she  _ is _ prepared to agree it’s much more comfortable to read stories in there than cramped into a tiny children’s bed. So they’re breaking a rule for the night.

They read The Very Hungry Caterpillar three times over and Amy tries her best at voices even though Jake’s better at them by far, feeling grateful she’s not judged too harshly. The toddler is busy turning the pages and watching the pictures with wide eyes, fascinated enough by the story to ask to hear it again and again even as her eyelids start falling. 

“Then he nibbled a hole in the cocoon, pushed his way out… He was a beautiful butterfly!” She closes the book after they’ve reached the end of it for the third time and kisses her daughter’s forehead. “Beautiful, like you.”

“Buh-fly”, Leah repeats with a drowsy voice. “Me buh-fly?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re what we call a human, baby. But you can be a butterfly if you want. Just don’t fly away too far.”

“Why?”

“Well, your dad and I would miss you a lot if you flew away.” Amy lets her left hand run through her daughter’s curls again, admiring the little individual who’s so much her own person already and clearly here to ask questions.

“Why?”

“Because we love you. More than anything else in the world.” The toddler nods as if this makes sense to her after all the times she’s heard it. It’s what comes next that’s the surprise.

“Mama?”

“Yeah?”

“Wuv you.”

 

Just like that, Amy’s heart grows so wide she feels like it might explode. Two words, two new words in her daughter’s still restricted but ever growing vocabulary, and there are tears of joy and of love, sheer and unrestricted love, falling from her eyes.

“I love you too”, she whispers back. “More than you'll ever know.”

She gets no response this time, because Leah’s already fast asleep with her head on Amy’s chest.

 

Amy Santiago-Peralta has been a mom for nineteen months and three days. She has no clue what she’s doing, but in moments like these, her cluelessness lacks importance. It’s still the best thing she’s ever done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I’m really sorry if you died of cuteness from this!! Because I did. And I wrote it. At 1am when I was feeling extra sappy, which is why this is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff. Also sorry for the lack of Jake! I considered including him in a scene at the end but it felt too extra and I really wanted to write some pure Amy-Leah mother-daughter love (because their kiddo loves her dad but she loves her mom very much too!!). 
> 
> -Research I did for this included downloading a pdf of The Very Hungry Caterpillar in the middle of the night
> 
> -also; I’m publishing another peraltiago thing this friday in honor of their one month anniversary and I’d be super happy if you wanted to check it out. gosh I hate promoting myself. but please do give it some love if you’re feeling up for it! 
> 
> -I sob a little every time I get an email about a comment or new kudos for this you guys are too nice!! and you make my day everytime you leave some love so thank you ❤


	5. you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three kinds of ice cream, a gift and a holiday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is Father’s Day in the U.S (and apparently in lots of other places just not in Sweden; it’s in November here I don’t know why we think we’re special??) so I wrote a lil’ something. It’s short and written mostly on my phone but it’s something for you at least ❤  
> title from iris by the goo goo dolls

“Babe?” Jake calls out when he enters their apartment, setting down the grocery store plastic bag before closing the door behind him. “You awake?”

He’s met by a low and incomprehensive mumble from their bedroom, alerting him to the fact that while Amy does seem to be awake, he probably made the right decision in making her stay home this morning if she’s still in bed at five p.m. She had a rough night - he doesn't understand why all information they can find call it morning sickness when it hits her even in the middle of the night - and when she almost fell asleep on the bathroom floor sometime in the early hours of the morning, he simply called in sick for her.

 

She’s still half asleep in pajamas on their bed when he finds her, but the way she opens her eyes and gives him a weary smile comforts him.

“How are you feeling?” He clutches a paper gift bag in both of his hands as he slumps down onto the bed next to her, scooting close enough to her for their foreheads to touch.

“Better”, she replies. “Not throwing up anymore. Just tired.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

“I had some plain toast earlier. And those.” She points to the three empty orange soda cans on her nightstand, and he grins at the sight of them.

“I’m so proud of our unborn kid for finally making you understand the true beauty of nature’s greatest beverage.”

“There’s nothing natural about orange drank, but it has citrus, is thus anti-nauseating and therefore a lifesaver.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“You’re ridiculous”, she groans. He presses a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Yeah, but I also got you _three_ kinds of ice cream, so there’s that.” Amy makes a contemplating face, scrunching her forehead and leaning her head to the side.

“What kinds?”

“Chocolate chip, triple chocolate and salted caramel. Put them in the freezer. And I also have a gift.” He holds up the white paper bag with the mainstream store logo in red on the front. “It’s just a small thing, really, but I was passing by on the way home and I thought maybe it’d cheer you up. Open it!” She looks questioning, but reaches her hand down and pulls out the smallest item of clothing Jake’s ever bought in his entire life. It’s a newborn jumpsuit in the softest cotton, white with dark blue stripes and complete with a hoodie that has two little ears on the top.

 

She starts crying the moment she sees it. At first he’s worried he did something wrong - maybe it’s ugly, maybe she doesn’t want him buying clothes for their kid without her - but then she’s smiling through the tears and hugging the jumpsuit close, close to her chest.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it”, Amy whispers before kissing him. “I was going to buy you a gift today, I wrote it in my planner and everything, but I forgot and I’ve been sleeping for the whole day and...”

“Sschh”, he orders her. “Why were you even buying me a gift in the first place? My birthday was ten days ago.”

“Today’s Father’s day. Your first, babe.”

“Oh.” He scoffs, blushing at the thought.”I thought next year would be my first.”

“Nope”, she insists, lifting her shirt and pressing his hand to the tiny swell of her stomach, which is at thirteen weeks still only visible if you know it’s there - but it’s there. “Today counts. And I’m buying your gift tomorrow, from me and this little guy.”  
“You mean girl.”

“Boy.”

“Girl.”

“ _Boy_.”

“ _Girl_.”

“I’m telling you it’s a boy, I can feel it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Ames, because it’s clearly a girl.”

“Nevermind, I’m not getting you your gift if you’re gonna keep on fighting me.” She crosses her arms in defiance. “Okay, fine, maybe I am. If you’re lucky. But only because you’re the sweetest, most thoughtful father-to-be that I know of. Also because you bought ice cream. Actually, maybe mostly because you bought ice cream.”

“Forget gifts. I have everything I need right here with you two.” He draws her in for another kiss, still sensing the sweetness from the orange soda on her breath as she sighs into it. “Love you both.”

“Aww. We love you too.”

“I just have one more question - if you’re having ice cream for dinner, does that mean I can have ice cream for dinner as well? _Ow! Don’t punch me!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The perfectionist in me really, really wants to point out how this doesn’t work out with the timeline I had in mind.. but please ignore it okay thanks love you)  
> (And thank you SO MUCH for all the response on the love you-fic. It was beautiful. You guys are the freakin’ best.)


	6. i'm gonna love you 'til my lungs give out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there’s a two week old baby, a midnight feeding and a conversation about fatherhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this one just before I wrote the Father’s Day drabble, but then I had to post that first and this got pushed to the side. Anyway have some fluffy cuteness for you because it’s what I do best xoxo
> 
> title: say you won’t let go - james arthur

It’s been fourteen days and Jake just doesn’t get babies.

 

Well, he gets most things. He gets how his own daughter is the best one of them all, he gets how she’s the greatest thing to happen to him and Amy (and probably Charles) ever and how everything she does from eating to burping to yawning is second to none when it comes to level of adorableness. He gets how to change her clothes and diapers and how to give her a bath, how to make sure a bottle is the perfect temperature and the crucialness of always having a cloth on his shoulder after she’s eaten to avoid staining all his clothing with baby spit-up. Yeah, he’s kind of feeling like a genius with all the new knowledge he’s gained after his first fourteen days of fatherhood.

 

What he doesn’t get is how a person that small can be so  _ loud _ . This kid barely weighs eight pounds yet, there’s really no way her lungs should be that powerful, and yet they are. With a little more than two hours having passed since she last ate he’s narrowed the reason for the noise down to hunger, which is why he’s currently trying to navigate the kitchen in almost-darkness with a screaming newborn on one arm while the other arm works on handling a bowl of hot water, a baby bottle and a ziploc bag of pumped and pre-measured milk, praying the result will be enough to stop the infant’s dissatisfaction.

“Wrong parent, Lee”, he informs her as she claws with her hands at his left pec. “We’re letting your mom sleep right now. Look, you’ll get what you’re after in a minute. Almost done.” She remains unconvinced and he’s got to give it her, her tenacity is astounding, but he would be just a  _ little _ more impressed if it wasn’t the middle of the night and she used said tenacity for anything other than screaming his ears off. 

 

The screaming stops the moment she latches onto the bottle. It gives way to blissful silence save the sweet sounds of her snuffles while she drinks its contents, a soft hum from the refrigerator and the odd car driving by outside. He sits down in the sofa with her in his arms, turns on the floor lamp so they’re not in total darkness and finally allows himself to relax. It’s almost difficult not to. Not only does the fact that neither he nor Amy have slept more than two hours at a time since their daughter was born make sleep a tempting companion the moment he sits down, but there is also something inherently relaxing about the weight of Leah’s head resting in the crook of his right arm and the sight of her peaceful, content little face as he holds the bottle for her.

Yeah, he forgives her for the screaming earlier. 

 

“Aww.” Amy’s familiar voice makes him turn his head for a moment. She’s in her pajamas with their floral comforter still wrapped around her, and she’s watching them with tears in her eyes. “You guys are the most adorable thing in the  _ world _ .”

“You’re biased. And overly hormonal.” Jake snorts at the memory of her shedding tears to a fast food commercial yesterday. “But you’re pretty cute, too.”

“Rude!” She gasps, taking her place next to him in the couch.“I mean, it’s true, but it's still rude.”

“Why are you up anyway?”

“It was kind of hard to sleep.You could’ve just woken me up, you know?” 

“Nah. You needed the rest.” He shakes his head and manages a tired smile which she reciprocates. “I wanted to try and see if I could be a good enough dad to calm her down.” Amy nods slowly, leaning over him to wipe away a few drops of milk trickling down their daughter’s tiny chin before giving Jake a quick kiss on the cheek.

“You’re the greatest dad in the world, okay? You don’t need to stress.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You think I do?”

“I don’t know”, he admits then, the sleep deprivation making it frighteningly easy to bare his soul right then and there. Leah’s finished the bottle, so he puts it down on the table and lifts her so she’s against his chest, her head on his shoulder and his hand supporting her head. “I know you’ve been a freaking superhero from the moment we found out you were pregnant, and I’ve just been… there. Doing nothing. What if that’s how it’ll always be? What if I’m as shitty a dad as mine was?” It’s not the first time he’s thought it, but it’s the first time he’s said it out loud.

 

Amy’s silent for a few seconds. It feels longer, making him instantly regret what he said despite its veracity.

 

“Jake.” Her voice is soft, almost whispering when it returns.”First of all, you’re nothing like your dad. Don’t ever say that. Second of all, it's not like you could’ve been pregnant for me, or given birth for me. Third of all - you did  _ so much. _ ”

“Like what? I wasn't the one throwing up every damn day for over a month. Or the one who did all the research on the best strollers and cribs and god knows what else. I wasn’t the one who grew a freaking human for nine months with pain and exhaustion and lots of other disgusting stuff those apps told me way too much about. I mean, besides the obvious contribution of knocking you up, I did nothing.”

“You can be so annoying sometimes.” Amy shakes her head and clears her throat like she’s getting ready for an important briefing. “Here’s what you did, dumbass; You were  _ there _ . You literally barely left my side. You ran down to the third floor five times a day to make sure I was okay when I was feeling sick, even after that. You downloaded pregnancy apps and came to every single appointment with me. You read three parenting books somehow. You listened to my research and you didn't smack me in the head when I was whining or spiralling. Remember that day when I stayed home from work because I was feeling terrible, and you came home with so much ice cream it barely fit in our freezer and the cutest little jumpsuit even though it was way too early to buy clothes? Or the day I wouldn't stop crying because I was tired of everything and you dragged me out to buy that? _ ”  _ She points to the light grey pajamas with rainbow hearts Leah is wearing. “You were a goddamn dream partner. Stop worrying.”

“Hmm.” He’s blushing, feeling lectured by his wife’s composed words. It’s difficult not to trust her when she uses her most authoritarian sergeant’s voice; he understands very well why her beat cops trail her so willingly.  “Thanks?”

“And you’ve been glued to her for these two weeks”, she continues. “It’s the sweetest. And we’re still learning, but you’ve got this. We’ve got this. Okay?” She squeezes his shoulder asking for confirmation, and he nods.

“I just don’t want her to hate me.”

“I’m having a hard time believing that milk-drunk little baby hates anyone right now.” Their daughter seems close to falling asleep in Jake’s arms again. She looks positively satisfied, slowly opening and closing her brown eyes and making the small grunts her parents have learned to identify as contentedness.“She’s not going to hate you, and I’d hold another argumentative speech about all the reasons why if I wasn’t dying to get some sleep.”

“Guess that makes three of us.”

 

“It’s a weird role switch”, he tells Amy when they’ve made their way back to the bed with a sleeping baby  in between them (safe in her babynest, they’re not rolling over and crushing her in her sleep thank you very much). “Me fretting about something. You calming me down. It’s usually the opposite.”

“Well, you’ve dealt with my anxiety for years. It’s got to be a two-way street sometimes.” 

“I’m so happy I’m married to you”, he mumbles before closing his eyes. 

“Happy I’m married to you too, dummy”, she mumbles back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, kudos and comments make me cry tears of joy and convince my anxious brain that I’m not completely worthless. Thank you for all the love you leave on this collection, it’s really amazing and makes me so, so happy <3
> 
> (And look, it's a long hiatus, so I don't plan on abandoning this piece of work anytime soon. I'll be here a long while yet)


	7. i believe we'll be okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there’s a minor head injury and less minor parental anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kid fic update time! Thank you guys so much for 100+ kudos on this, you’re the sweetest <3

Until he returned to the precinct to find no less than twenty-three missed calls and a series of texts on his phone, all sent from Amy’s number, Jake’s day was going smoothly. 

 

Leah crawled into her parents’ bed early enough for them to fit sleepy cuddles with their three-year-old in before work; a rare occurrence now when their kid has begun to claim she’s getting too big for them, but still the best start of a morning Jake knows. It took him only five minutes of gentle coercing instead of the usual ten to get her to eat breakfast. She chose her clothes without a fight and almost didn’t cry when he dropped her off for daycare. Well at work he and Charles received a tip allowing them to finally arrest the counterfeiter they’d been chasing for months, and he thinks Holt might even have smiled at them when they brought the guy in. 

 

It’s possible he should’ve foreseen a day like the one they were having was too good to be true.

He didn’t.

The voicemail has his face pale and muscles tense from the moment he understands the words  _ Leah  _ and  _ hospital _ and he can't quite remember what he's saying, but suddenly Terry is granting him the rest of the day off and Boyle’s driving him and Jake’s heart is beating a mile a minute. 

_ She has to be okay. _

He runs faster through the hospital corridors than he’s done chasing a perp in a long time. 

 

“Jake.” He sees Amy first, walking aimlessly back and forth in a hurried pace, when he enters the waiting room.  She halts the moment she sees him, says his name in a single relieved breath and throws her arms around him. “Thank god you’re here.”

“Came as soon as I heard. What happened? Is she okay?” It’s not until she retreats he notices the traces of smudged eye makeup trailing down her cheeks, sees how blank and puffy her eyes are. There are small dark stains on her coat looking too much like dried blood for him to feel comfortable, and she’s clutching a torn tissue in her left hand so firmly her hands are pushing through the white paper.

“She’s okay”, she lets out finally. “They’re cleaning her up, making sure she doesn’t need stitches or anything. Heads just bleed a lot, it looked much worse than it was…”

“She hit her head at the playground?”

“I looked away for two seconds”, she whispers, her voice faint and gaze diverted. “It was so quick, but it was terrifying. I was scared to death. I’m a cop, for god’s sake. I’ve seen dead bodies on my job - but I saw her bleeding and I freaked out. She’s in there without me because she wouldn’t stop crying if I stayed, and I’m the  _ worst _ .”

“You can be sort of scary when you’re freaking out.” He pulls her into another tight hug. If it’s for her sake or his he’s not sure, but maybe it’s the same thing when you’ve been married over four years. “But that sort of stuff happens with three-year-olds, right? You didn’t do anything, Lee’s fine, you’re not the worst.”

“Hmm.”

“I mean it, Ames.”

“Don’t Ames me. I feel like the most useless mom on the planet.”

“You know you’re not.”

“Today? No, I don’t.” She shakes her head and throws her arms up in a frustrated gesture. “I could be. She’s hurt because I wasn’t watching her closely enough. That’s not something a good mom does.”

He wants desperately to be able to procure the magical words to end her spiralling and successfully convince her everything is fine, but worry for their child is tugging at his own heart too, and it’s all he can do to tell her no another time and wait with her. Five more excruciating minutes they wait, hand in hand on uncomfortable plastic chairs without speaking. Amy takes his hand and moves it to rest atop her belly when their fourth family member, the one that’s going to join them on the outside in two short months from now, starts kicking and moving around in a reminder to their parents that they’re also here and worried about their sister, but the nervous silence remains.

It’s not broken until a nurse finally, finally comes to ask for Leah Santiago-Peralta’s parents. 

A few short moments later, Leah is in Jake’s arms eating a pear popsicle and looking positively perplexed as to why her parents are showering her with kisses when all she wants to do is show off the glittery pirate stickers a nurse gave her. There is a small bandage at her right temple and they receive strict orders to go back immediately if she appears dizzy or starts throwing up, but a doctor assures them they’re fine to go home. Jake can practically see the anxiety melt away from Amy’s face when Leah reaches for her, mumbling something about ice cream and dinner.

 

It turns out hitting her head and almost scaring her parents to death is all it takes for their daughter to win her mom over in regards to strawberry ice cream for dinner.

“This is the best day”, proclaims the three-year-old when the little family is gathered around the kitchen table with matching pink bowls.

“Your daughter, I swear”, mutters Amy while side-eyeing Jake, who just grins.

 

Their daughter is truly in paradise, because her evening doesn’t end with ice cream for dinner but continues instead with bedtime stories in her parents bed.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure Lee thinks you’re the best mom in the world today”, Jake whispers when Leah’s fallen asleep contently sandwiched between them, holding a plastic Ninja Turtles figurine (it’s Donatello’s turn tonight) she insisted to sleep with to her chest, and Amy is stroking their daughter’s mocha brown curls with one hand.

“It was such a different scream”, she replies after a while, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’ve always known her screams. Crying from hunger, crying from anger, crying from being tired. I know those. But this…” She shakes her head again. “She was terrified, Jake. Actually in pain. And I could feel my blood freeze to ice, and it was the worst thing I’ve experienced, and nobody ever prepared me for this.”

“Maternal instincts? Being a parent?”

“Mm-hmm. Terrible.” Amy laughs quietly.”In all seriousness, I don’t think I can stand her ever getting hurt again.”

“Well, she has my genes, so it’s probably bound to happen.”

“Your genes are stupid.”

“Says the woman who’s reproducing with them for the second time”, he snorts, pointing to the bump where their second kid is being active enough for him to see the movements from the outside. “Anything to say to your defense?” 

“I guess I’m pretty stupid too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly now when I’m actually about to publish this I’m just anxious and stressed out about this fic to the point where I can’t decide if this was decent or not?? But 9 times out of 10 when I feel that way people still seem to love the work so I’m just publishing it and seeing where this goes. Hope you didn’t hate it or something. <3
> 
> I don’t start school for another month (and I’m hoping to write some even when I do) so when I’m not updating this, keep an eye out on here or on my tumblr for other Peraltiago fics because they’re happening alright. You’re all the best for reading and leaving some love, it always makes me so happy it’s insane


	8. let me share this whole new world with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a feverish four year old, a Disney movie and some singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a request from [alwaysandbeyond](http://alwaysandbeyond.tumblr.com/) that I very much enjoyed writing, thank you so much for this request bb!!

From the moment he first laid eyes on his firstborn child, Jake has realised there are many things about parenthood no amount of binders or parenting books could have ever prepared him for. 

The all-consuming love is the first thing to come to mind. Immediately after, the sleep-deprivation. How intensely you can miss your kids as soon as they’re somewhere else. The way conversations with your significant other about your child’s bathroom habits become second nature. Just how intoxicatingly mellifluous the sound of baby laughter is.

Also the love. And the sleep-deprivation. 

Least of all, he was never prepared for the devastating heartbreak of seeing your child sick.

 

He’s lived through his kids getting countless colds and several stomach flus - even fought his way through one case of chickenpox - and he’s still not used it. When Leah crawled into her parents bed somewhere around midnight with a burning hot forehead still claiming she felt cold, her detective parents and a digital thermometer quickly solved the case of their daughter’s random awakening; a temperature of a solid 103℉. Between the discomfort of being squeezed into a children’s bed next to a feverish child and said child waking up every ten minutes crying, Jake has acquired about an hour total of sleep. 

Add to the equation that his one year old has recently started walking and thus needs constant supervision, plus the fact that they’re in the midst of packing up their apartment in order for the move to a bigger one that’s coming up in three short weeks, and he’d like to argue it’s nothing short of a miracle he’s still standing by the time he finally gets Olivia to go down for her afternoon nap.

 

Well, he’s not  _ standing _ , per se. He’s on the couch, letting a still warm Leah dry her tears on his t-shirt after what appears to have been a distressing fever dream. Still counts.

“I don't want them to come back”, she whispers in the faint voice that’s breaking his heart.

He kisses her heated forehead. “It was just a dream, baby. Not real.” 

“But it _felt_ real”, she insists. “It was scary.” This version of his daughter - tired and anxious in contrast to her usual bubbly energetic self - is painful to see. He can’t stop wishing he could take the fever, pain and scary dreams from her so they’re no longer hers to deal with, but it turns out there is only so much you can do for your kids. He’s learning that the hard way. 

“I know, Lee. I know. Hey, do you want something to eat?” He tries to remember if Amy did get their daughter to swallow anything other than apple juice or ice cream when the girl was last sick, but comes up short. “Pasta with butter?”

“Not hungry”, she whines, shaking her head.

“Chicken fingers?”

“No.”

“Some toast? Just some?”

“Nuh-uh.” He sighs. 

“Is there anything you could consider eating, Lee-Bee? You can have whatever you want today.” 

“Ice-cream.”

“Just ice-cream?”   
“Pink ice-cream. With sprinkles.” Leah shoots him a content grin at her suggestion. “The chocolate ones!” Jake laughs at that, remembering a similar comment from Amy during her first pregnancy when she survived to ninety percent on ice cream and orange soda for a few weeks while morning sickness was at its worst. 

“You know, sometimes I think your mom ate so much ice cream when she was pregnant with you that a small part of you  _ became _ just ice cream.” This makes his daughter laugh as well.

“Daddy, you’re being silly.” He gently ruffles his daughter’s hair and presses a kiss to her warm forehead before answering. 

“That is what I do best. How about I get you some ice cream, and you pick out a movie to watch?” She nods in anticipation, climbing down from his lap to make her way over to the box of kids DVDs next to the TV. Between ones they’ve bought and ones they’ve gotten from Terry or the Santiago brothers it’s an impressive collection, but Leah seems to know exactly what she’s looking for today and swiftly holds up a familiar blue cover before Jake has even found a clean bowl for her lunch request. 

“You want to watch Aladdin today? Ooh, that’s a good one. Can I watch it with you?” Leah mumbles in agreement before taking her place on the couch again, wrapping the pale blue comforter around herself like a cocoon. It’s an utterly sweet image to him, the child’s pouting face reminding him of her mother’s, and for a short second he’s not as heartbroken by seeing her ill as he was a few minutes ago.

  
  


They’re twenty minutes into the movie when the familiar sound of a door unlocking is heard. Leah’s attention doesn’t divert from what’s happening on the TV - Aladdin’s just met Jasmine for the first time - but Jake’s face lights up when Amy enters, grocery bag in hand and soft expression on her face as she finds her husband and oldest daughter cuddling together on the couch. 

(Six years married and nine years together, and every day he marvels over the fact that he gets to share a life with someone as amazing as she is.)

“What are you guys watching?” She asks, toeing off her shoes and leaving the bag on the counter. “Ooh, Aladdin. Is it any good?”

“Yeah.” Leah is still fully focused on the screen, squinting when her mom kneels down to kiss her daughter's forehead. “Mama, you’re blocking the screen.”

“I’m sorry, mija. Do you think I can watch with you?” Her daughter makes a contemplating face, but then nods and Jake scooches to the side to make place for his wife. He gets a quick peck on the lips from her, knowing full well that’s about how much intimacy between them their four year old will tolerate happening in front of her before calling both of her parents disgusting. 

(Kids go through interesting stages, to say the least. They’re both hoping this one will be over soon.)

 

A few minutes before  _ A Whole New World  _ is about to begin the unmistakable sound of a toddler crying is heard from their bedroom and Amy leaves to go get their youngest daughter. She only just makes it back in time before the song starts, now bouncing a sleep-dazed one year old on her hip. Jake can’t help but hum along to the melodic tones, resulting in cheerful giggling from Leah.

“You sing, Daddy.”

“Oh, no.” He scrunches his nose and shakes his head at her. “You know I can’t sing.”

“You heard her”, Amy agrees, already sounding amused. “Bust out that singing voice, Peralta.”

“You sing Jasmine’s parts, Mama.”

“Oh god.” 

“Hah! You’re in this with me, Santiago”, he teases her before clearing his throat. “I can show you the world…”

 

It’s not beautiful by any means. In fact, it’s so off-key he’s not sure it’s technically the same song any longer. But his daughter seems pleased, even more so when Amy dutifully joins in for Jasmine’s parts. She even dances around a little, adding a few careful spins at the refrain that has Olivia shrieking with laughter and shooting her mom the kind of disarming, cheeky smile only a toddler can manage. Leah seems to have forgotten all about her fever, even making her way out of her dad’s arms to do some pirouettes in her pajamas. Amy holds her hand for assistance when the girl sways a little, and Jake loses track of his lines for a moment at the sight of them; the woman he loves more than he ever thought it was possible to love someone, dancing and laughing with the kids he somehow loves  _ even more _ . 

He’s never been any good at math, but he doubts anyone could solve that equation. 

 

When the song is over, all family members return to the couch. There’s an exchange of kids when Olivia reaches for her dad and Leah gets to cuddle with her mom instead, barely protesting the kisses Amy presses to her hairline when the movie picks up again. For a moment there’s nothing but peaceful silence, and he’s almost closed his eyes for a moment’s rest when his oldest daughter makes an observation.

“Iago”, she repeats when the parrot’s name is mentioned. “Like Santiago?”

“That’s exactly it”, Jake confirms, smirking when he remembers a conversation many, many years ago. Why his goldfish brain has held onto it, he’s not sure. “Emphasis on  _ Iago _ , backstabber”, he says with a wink at his wife.

“I’m surprised you’ve read Othello”, she quips back without missing a beat.

“What’s Othello?” Leah asks before Jake has time to respond. “We were talking about the parrot from Aladdin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always always appreciated, no matter how short/long, if you've commented before or not. ❤
> 
> I've had some anxiety about writing for a while, so I might be taking a little break from publishing until I'm feeling better. I'm definitely not leaving though - I have tons of kid fic ideas and am genuinely quite worried about how long this collection will be when we get to season six. Heh.


	9. there is a first for everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rosa visits Peraltiago baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rosa is my favorite character after Amy and Jake and I started thinking about her meeting their kid... it turned into this 2.6k One-Shot which is the longest thing in this collection and will probably remain so unless I really surprise myself, but you never know.

For all the years Rosa has known Jake, she recalls exactly one time before this where they’ve greeted each other with a hug.   
They shared one after she returned from having responded to an active shooter alert, the time he admitted to already having pictured receiving news about an officer with badge number 3118 being one of the casualties, and later told her he’d been mere seconds from attempting to join her at the scene. That hug had been one of relief - instinctive and immediate gratitude, him saying  _ I’m so glad you’re okay because I could never imagine losing you  _ and her letting him say it, knowing she’d have thought the same had the situation been reversed. 

The second time they greet each other with a hug, it’s shared in the middle of a hospital entrance with nurses and patients milling round them as they stand there, and the embrace is one of love.

That doesn’t mean it’s long-lasting or especially tender. It’s not her style. But it's still with love she hugs him.

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier”, she says when they part, tone of regret in her voice. “Had to wrap up the Lauritsen case without you.”

“Well”, he grins. “I’ve been pretty busy. You caught the guy, then?”

“Oh yeah. We got him.” She digs in her messenger bag to find the neatly wrapped package in cheerful pink and green colors she hastily grabbed from the kitchen table earlier before kissing her girlfriend on the cheek and leaving for Brooklyn Methodist Hospital. “I have a gift. From me and Alicia.”

Jake shines up at that, giving her a joking wink. “For me?” 

She snorts. “For your baby, dum-dum. Well, I guess you can open it for her. Or Amy. How is she doing?”

“She’s good”, he tells her, corners of his mouth raising and a light blush at his cheeks when she mentions his wife. He’s leading her through the corridors with surprising ease, making her suspect he walked them a few times before. “Exhausted. We all are. I told her to catch up on sleep, so we’re going to hang out outside our room.” 

“How long was it? Labor?” It’s for her bet with Gina - loser owns closest one twenty bucks, only because they ran out of baby-related things to bet on - but also out of genuine care and concern for the sergeant, who she’s already seen tackle exhaustion and morning sickness and nosebleeds and back pain and more exhaustion while still kicking ass at her job. Her girl deserved if not a painless, then at least a relatively simple and smooth childbirth. Rosa cares about Amy, okay?   
“Twenty-six hours.” 

“Damn.” That means Gina won the bet. And Rosa’s wish about things going smoothly for her best friend failed. “Poor Amy.” 

“Was pretty rough”, her friend admits before giving the door to the Mother/Baby ward a slight push and holding it up for her. “But everyone's fine now. And you know her. She’s a badass.”

“Duh. She can be freaking Wonder Woman when she wants to.”

“I know.”

 

She’s never been one for small talk, isn’t certain her succinct questions truly counts towards it, but something about the situation makes her think no ordinary rules apply. These corridors - calm and peaceful for a hospital ward - feel like a liminal space. It’s an early November evening, but from the fluorescent lights and sounds of shoes squeaking against plastic floors mixed with the odd baby crying from behind closed doors, it could be any time, day, month in the world or something on another plane of existence. 

Or maybe the place actually isn’t that weird and Rosa simply needs to sleep, eat and be with her girlfriend after working the Lauritsen case non-stop for three days. But it’s also definitely weird. And the friend she’s known since her academy days just had a  _ baby _ together with her other friend and fellow sleuth sister, which is  _ even weirder _ . 

Whatever. Rosa needs to sleep.

 

“You can wait by those couches there.” Jake points to what looks more to be slightly bigger plastic chairs in a dark green color with just enough padding for them to pass as a couch. “I will… uh.. go get my baby. Because I have one of those. Yeah. That’s what I’ll do.” He rakes his fingers through the unruly curls he’s sporting. She wonders silently when he last had a shower and considers asking him, but quickly realises she hasn’t had one herself since before the case and is probably not the right person to speak. 

“You don’t have to be such a nutjob about it”, she reminds him and he apologises, mutters something about still getting used to it while she leaves for one of the couches with questionable comfort level. She doesn't tell him about being nervous herself; Rosa Diaz categorically does not get nervous often, but there’s something about the thought of small, fragile-looking babies that absolutely terrifies her. Why are their heads so soft, anyway?

This is Jake and Amy’s baby, though. So the kid’s gotta be pretty damn cool.

 

The first thing she notices at his return is how differently he’s moving. It’s slow, deliberate, as if he considers every step before taking it with a technique contradictory to his usual rushed pace. All his focus is directed at what looks like the bundle of blankets connected to a tiny head of more dark hair than she’s ever seen on a newborn, that he’s holding against his chest. 

That’s the second thing she’s noticing. A faint, worried whimper, Jake’s low hushing and a whisper she can’t fully make out.

“It’s okay”, she hears when he gets closer. “Sorry to wake you up, I know you’ve had a lot of visitors today but this is your Tía Rosa and she’s been looking forward to meeting you, alright? Everything’s fine.” He presses a kiss to the forehead still facing away from Rosa, his hands bouncing the infant just slightly in a soothing manner, the whimpers gradually quieting.

The realization dawns upon her that this is the same competitive, overactive jokester with a passion for Die Hard she met on her first day in the Police Academy and immediately took a liking to. This is the goofy but lovable dude she talked shooting techniques and interrogation tips with over junk food and fought over the best cop movie of all time with; she still thinks it’s RoboCop, he still refuses to agree. It’s the always loyal, almost always honest classmate and later colleague she made up the code of a thousand pushups with so they knew to trust each other. It’s the best friend she once instructed to let the girl he remained hung up on know  _ he was an option  _ because if he didn’t, he couldn’t say he was letting her make her own choice.

And now he has a baby with mentioned girl. A living, breathing baby, one he’s handling with utmost care and in such a loving manner her eyes are  _ almost  _ threatening to tear (she must really be tired), because it’s making him look grown up in a way she never thought she’d see in his childish character. 

 

“You want to hold her?” He poses the question close to a statement, but he’s not wrong and she nods. “Hold out your arms, remember to support the head properly…”

“I’ve held babies before.”

“Not this one”, he corrects her. “And she’s clearly better than every other baby slash human that’s ever existed in the whole world.”

“Don’t let Gina hear you say that”, she warns him and he scoffs and says he won’t before sitting down next to her, shifting the newborn to a cradle hold and slowly, slowly transferring her to Rosa’s arms.

 

She’s pretty sure it’s the smallest baby she’s ever held - maybe because the last baby she held was fourteen pound newborn Ava Jeffords four years ago - but also because this one really is tiny, a little too small for the white and dark blue striped pajamas and almost drowning in the lilac baby blanket. She gets a hint of brown eyes as if the child’s inspecting her before they close again, small fists waving with surprising purpose. Rosa can’t help but try the cliché thing she knows everyone who’s ever held a newborn has probably tried, nudging one of the fists with her index finger and gasping when the infant firmly holds onto it.

The child is mimicking some very Amy-like facial expressions, and the nose is definitely hers, but there is something about her appearance that also screams  _ Jake  _ and something else, something completely new that is apparently the result of when what Charles has been dreaming about for years finally happens. The petite mouth opens and for a split second Rosa fears the baby will start screaming in her arms, but instead of a piercing cry comes only an adorable yawn and a content sigh. 

It’s quite possibly the most serene she’s felt in a long time, somehow exactly what she needed after her stressful case. Quality time with a sleepy newborn. She’s about to tell Jake this when her thoughts are interrupted by a sudden bright flash shining at her face, resulting in her flinching instinctively and the baby in her arms letting out another upset whimper, bordering dangerously close to a cry.

“Sorry, sorry”, Jake apologises, fidgeting with his phone. “Didn’t mean to put the stupid flash on. I know you don’t like pictures, but I wanted to show Amy and I thought it’d be cute and it’s your first meeting and…”

“You can take a picture”, she interrupts his rambling. “Without flash.”  He shines up at her permission, shifts for a better angle and snaps a few shots. She wants to complain about how he’s taking the pictures from her bad side and how she probably looks exactly like the pile of utter exhaustion she feels like, but this is his baby and deep inside - very, very deep inside - she’s flattered he counts her as an important visitor.

She would want pictures if he came to visit her newborn kid, too.

 

“Amy’s awake”, Jake announces after what can’t have been more than another minute of baby holding, reading a text from his phone. “She wants to see you. And her baby back, probably, although she’s too proud to write that.”

“Smitten much?”

“Never tried to deny it, Diaz.”

 

Amy is indeed awake, sitting up straight in the hospital bed texting when they walk in on her, baby safely back in Jake’s arms. Rosa notes how the couple’s blue hoodies are matching, leading her to guess Amy’s hoodie isn’t hers at all but something she’s stolen from her husband. 

“Rosa!” She lights up at the sight of them, quickly pocketing her phone before giving Jake a meaning look. “I told you I wanted to see her.”

“And I told you, you gave birth not even twenty-four hours ago and should catch up on sleep.”

“I promise you I’ve slept some, babe. And no offense, but you need a shower”, she tells him quietly while he transfers their child to her arms.

“Rude!” Jake snorts, backing away. “Rosa, tell her that’s not true.”

“Is so.”

“Damn it”, he mumbles, but starts rummaging around in one of two overnight bags sitting in the corner of the room before he disappears into the bathroom. “Don’t run away with my baby while I’m gone!”

“Hilarious.” Amy rolls her eyes at the comment and shifts her attention to Rosa for a short moment, giving her a tired grimace. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She gives her friend's shoulder a friendly squeeze before sitting down next to the bed. “You did it.”

“Mm-hmm”, she hums in agreement, already having returned most of her focus to her daughter. “Sure did.”

“Knew you would.” 

“Thanks. It  _ sucked _ .” There’s the sound of a shower running, mixed with low grunts from the infant looking absolutely at home in her mother's arms. “Seriously. Zero out of ten.”

“Did Jake faint? Because I will kill him if he fainted”, Rosa threatens, not entirely kidding.

“Hah!” Amy snorts at the promise.  “No. Jake was great, actually. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

 

The detective’s next question comes out more of a whisper, a question she never thought she’d ask but suddenly wonders when she sees the new mother-baby duo looking so at peace. Even with the dark circles under Amy’s eyes, and the fact that the messy ponytail reminds her of the time they had to stay 48 hours at the precinct due to a harebrained arrest courtesy of Jake’s impulsivity, she looks  _ happy _ in a way that doesn’t come entirely without a microscopic sting of jealousy for Rosa.

“Was it worth it?”

“Yeah. A thousand times over”, Amy replies instantly, pressing a kiss to her baby’s forehead for good measure. “I have this one for the rest of my life now. Pretty dope, right?”

“Yep. Congrats on being stuck with Jake’s genes for the rest of your life.”

“Ha- _ ha _ .”

“I’m kidding”, she admits. “She’s one hell of a lucky kid with you two as parents. I know it.”

“Rosa…” Her friend whispers, clearly fighting tears while also trying to understand where the sudden emotion is coming from.

“If you ever tell someone I said something that nice I will  _ crush you _ , Santiago.”

“Got it.” 

“Good.”

 

In the background, the shower stops running, leaving them in silence save the odd grunt still from the now almost sleeping baby. “I… need to get going soon. Shower. Eat. See Alicia. Sleep”, Rosa lists, mostly for her own sake. “You can save the gift if you want to. You’ve probably already got loads today.”

“Never enough gifts!” Jake stumbles out of the bathroom, still in the same sweats and with wet hair but looking a little less worse for wear. “I’m a great gift-opener. Only one of my many unique skills.” Amy opens her mouth to protest, but doesn't have the time before he’s ripping into the shiny wrapping paper with far more intensity than necessary.

“It's a Spanish kids book”, Rosa explains when he reaches the packaging’s contents. “‘ _ Te amaré por siempre.  _ I will love you forever.’ You probably already bought some, but, uhm, I’ve read this to my nieces. I thought you might like it.”

“And this?” Jake queries, holding up a soft baby blanket with multi-colored motorcycles and looking positively intrigued. 

“Alicia found it and thought it was cute. And, you know, if your kid ever wants to learn how to ride a motorcycle or read books in Spanish... I’ll be here. Or if they need someone to beat an enemy up. I’ll be there for that too, but I didn't find a good gift to symbolise that.” 

The couple goes silent for a few seconds, looking from the gifts in Jake’s hands to each other to Rosa with tears in their eyes.

“ _ Diaz-” _

“That's  _ so  _ sweet-”

“How can we-”

“Alright, guys, keep it in your pants”, she snorts. “Just… raise that kid awesome, alright? I need to leave.” 

“Wait.”

 

For all the years Rosa has known Jake, she doesn't think they’ve ever hugged goodbye before either, but this time they do.

Turns out there is a first for everything, she thinks, carefully hugging Amy and giving one of the child’s small fists a loving stroke before saying goodbye and leaving the new family to continue getting to know each other in peace.

She’s not sure it’s the fate she would have predicted for him when they first met in the Academy, him telling her on their second day of friendship about dreams of dying on the force after saving the whole of New York City from a mastermind criminal. 

She’s happy he got it anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some trivia about this fic; the first 100 words are written at home in my bed. The rest was written on a night bus (using a magazine as a notepad because my phone was dead), a plane, in a hotel room in Berlin and on an airport. It travelled far and wide.  
>  Also; I feel like I'm repeating myself answering comments so I mainly answer longer or more specific ones, but just know that every single one means the world and I see every single comment and I'm equally grateful for them all <3 Hope you didn't hate it.


	10. different (but good)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which pregnancy leads to changes, and Amy has a question for Jake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is honestly just shameless fluff with close to zero plot because the last thing I wrote was super angsty and I had to reset somehow. Enjoy! ❤︎

The first thing that hits her, standing in front of the full length mirror stuck to the inside of the wardrobe while wearing the simple black tank top and pajama shorts she slept in, is that something looks different. She just can’t quite place it.

It's the same five feet six inches body with slim legs and muscular arms she’s used to waking up in - almost identical to yesterday, down to the neat ponytail and far below average eyesight without contacts - and yet she’s noticing a miniscule but life-changing difference in it today.

She pulls at the tank top, adjusting the stretchy item to sit comfortably under her chest to expose her stomach before she traces her left hand over the bare skin.

It’s a little harder, has been for a few weeks now, more resistance there if she dares to cautiously give it the lightest of presses with her fingers. This is completely in order according to the pregnancy binder, app and the countless websites she’s been spending time on during slow hours at work. She still finds it weird.

Her body is actively stretching, changing and working at every single moment to make space for an actual human to grow there. It's somehow both the most bizarre and the most sublime notion to be aware of at the same time. The whole thing has been feeling marginally more real thanks to the twelve week sonogram picture stuck to their fridge, distracting her whenever she walks into the kitchen, but it's still _freaky_.

And today, at exactly fourteen weeks and four days pregnant, Amy thinks she might just be seeing the smallest of baby bumps where there was earlier only a flat stomach.

 

She could be imagining it. It could well be innocent pudge from the sub-optimal diet she’s kept for the last two months, devouring anything and everything plain or anti-nauseating. (There’s been a lot of salted chips, buttered toast and orange soda. And ice cream. So much ice cream.) It’s the shape of it, the way it’s sticking out just slightly in a way she’s never seen any extra pounds on her body do before, that make her doubt it is.

She takes a deep breath holding a hand right under her belly button to see if the shape will change.

It doesn’t.

“Jake!” It takes an effort to overpower the sound of the shower, but the water stops running almost instantly and she hears a promise about him being out of there in a minute.

(She usually always has first shower unless they share, but getting out of bed has proved a fun little challenge lately; if she’s not rushing to involuntarily start her day by throwing up, she’s too exhausted to move for at least a good twenty minutes. This has led to odd changes in routines, such as Jake getting first showers. Amy never thought she’d see the day.)

“You okay?” There’s a worried strain to his voice when he enters, hair still wet and having thrown on only boxers and a black t-shirt. “I left the door open in case you were going to be sick again. Didn’t want a repeat of the hallway incident.”

“You’re sweet”, she tells him, unable to hide a smile. “I actually feel fine today, but look at this.”

“At what?” His brows draw together, and he’s giving her a questioning look when she turns around to face him.

“Bump.” She gives the hard skin another press with her index and middle finger. “I think. It _is_ a bump, right? I honestly can’t tell.”

Amy’s expecting a quick and succinct answer from her husband - the man’s a self-proclaimed amazing detective slash genius after all - but there’s only a tilt of his head and a squinting look as he moves closer.

“Babe?”

“Is there a right or wrong answer for me here? Like, do you _want_ it to be a bump, or are you going to throw something at my head and yell at me if I say yes?”

She sighs, rolling her eyes at his hesitance. “Just be honest. Bump or no bump?”

“Honest answer?” Jake’s positively grinning as he puts his hands first on her shoulders to turn her toward the mirror again, then moving them to right where the maybe-possible-eventual-bump is and linking them with hers. He presses a kiss to the back of her neck, then rests his chin on one of her shoulders so their heads are next to each other. “I’m going to say bump.”

“Knew it.”

“Tiniest, barely-there, definitely-cutest-in-the-universe, bump.” Another kiss, this time to her lips, deep and long-lasting enough for Amy to feel thankful she’s gone a solid three days without both the vomiting and the subsequent revolting breath. (Not that Jake’s dared complain, bless him, but she still enjoys the sudden upgrade. She hopes it’ll last.) “You look adorable, babe.”

“We’ll see about that in four or five months when I look like a crossbreed between a whale and an elephant”, she mumbles, not at all excited about the discomfort she knows is coming mostly thanks to Gina’s and her mom’s detailed descriptions.

“You’re going to be the most badass, knockout gorgeous whale-elephant out there.”

“You’re a dork.”

“Proudly so.” His reflection in the mirror tells her he’s still beaming, and she quickly bites her lip to keep from tearing up at his excitement.

 

It’s still mind-blowing to her, the fact that a few vague conversations between them saying _yeah, maybe we could have kids someday_ became two dark lines and plus signs and digital screens saying ‘pregnant’ on the multiple tests she made him buy when she refused to trust the first one, became something - someone - growing inside her stealing all her energy and refusing her coffee and making her boobs annoyingly sore and forcing her to spend most of her workdays swallowing down incessant bouts of nausea while _still_ managing to hold so much of her heart.

“This is really happening, huh?” From the words he uses to interrupt her thinking, she can tell Jake must have been thinking along the same lines. “We’re really having a baby. For realz.”

“For realz-realz”, Amy confirms with a small smile. “The little jellybean’s supposed to be the size of an orange now. The eyes are where they should be, they’re learning to suck and swallow, and their legs are longer than the arms. Or so the app says”, she adds when she sees his amused smile. “I check it so often I’ve kind of memorized it.”

“Santiago style”, he says, and she rolls her eyes again. “When does the kicking start? I’m excited for that.”

“Could be two weeks, could be two months. Either way, I’ll feel it first.”

“So unfair”, he grumbles, and she promptly gives him a punch to the shoulder for the comment, but laughter’s seeping out of her anyway.

“Hey! I don’t remember _you_ throwing up daily for the last two months. I deserve this.” He’s the one rolling his eyes his time, but the minor display of annoyance is gone with the wind before he kisses her another time.

“Fine, but only because you’re cute. And hot. I don't know if you’ve noticed, but your boobs definitely got bigger.”

There’s a goofy smile on his face, and she raises an eyebrow at him. “Is that supposed to be a pick-up line? Because it's bad.”

“Well, is it working?”

Whether it’s the sudden change in hormones or emotional intimacy in an already half undressed state turning her on, she’s not quite sure, but she finds herself nodding eagerly before meeting his lips again, this time letting her hands wander.

Maybe they can be a few minutes late for work today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I go back to school in two days which means new updates will be even more irregular than before. I'm definitely not abandoning writing though and we have a loong hiatus to go so watch this space!  
> Comments and kudos always give me life and it makes me so happy to see how much love you guys give this collection. You're the effing best. ❤︎


	11. here's to the infinite possible ways to love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a weekday morning with two young children, ducks being fed, and two idiots who've been together for ten years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys and sorry for leaving you all alone here for so long! I did, to be fair, write a 4k fluffy kidfic about a month ago so definitely check that out if you haven't. It's VERY fluffy.
> 
> This isn't the most well-written thing this collection has seen at all, hahah. It's written to 90 percent on my phone and in notebooks over the span of like two days as a way to channel my stress and anxiety into writing Amy as a stressed parent. But I still think it's kind of cute. Hope you enjoy, and stay tuned for a reveal about the next fic-project I've been working on for a while now. :)
> 
> Title from Have It All by Jason Mraz.

Amy loves puzzles, but the one of balancing a marriage, a house, a full-time position as a Lieutenant for the 99th precinct and a more than full-time role as a mother to two daughters ages almost-six and two is officially the most advanced one she’s ever laid her hands on.

It’s a rewarding one, of course. It’s exhilarating and gratifying and never looks the same for a single day. It is, without question, the best thing she’s done. 

It’s also impossible some days, during which she inevitably fails at at least one if not all of the roles, and the puzzle pieces scatter on the floor and make their way far in under the fridge and away from her reach. It’s an equation more difficult than anything she ever saw in Mathletics.

Some days are chaotic. Some days are beautiful. Some days are both.

 

This one must be the first of the three, she decides when she wakes up being spooned by a two-year-old who’s somehow also kicking her in the back and singing to herself at the same time. Her phone displays 6.05 A.M. over the background picture of an asleep Jake with Leah and Olivia on their California vacation this summer, which is ten minutes until her alarm clocks go off and ten minutes of sleep she won’t get with an awake toddler in the same bed. It’d make her bitter if she wasn’t used to it.

She’s a little jealous of Jake, though. While she’s grateful he was quick to get up when Leah stumbled into their bedroom shortly after midnight talking about scary dreams, their oldest daughter is undoubtedly a much more peaceful co-sleeper than their youngest.

And she’s not actually sure she remembers how Olivia ended up in their bed. She  _ knows _ the girl fell asleep in her own. Amy was the one reading her four different stories and humming her the Paw Patrol theme and scratching her back until the kid finally drifted off, thank you very much. 

It’s all a mystery, albeit not one her analyzing Detective-brain has time to figure out, because unless she showers and puts on her makeup  _ now  _ she’ll end up leaving the house with mascara on one eye and eye shadow on the other. She would prefer not to repeat that humiliating incident.

“Good morning, mija. You sleep well?” Her daughter’s unrelenting kicking stops the moment she discovers she has her mother’s attention. She grins and giggles instead, pulling the sheets over her head only to pull them down again.

“Mo-ning”, she parrots, skipping over the r. “Lee?”

“She’s still sleeping, I think. Do you want to help me with a super important mission?”

“Mm-hmm.” Olivia nods and sits up, sleep-ruffled hair hanging before her eyes.

“Can you go wake up dad and Leah for me?” The girl nods again, and about five seconds later she’s climbed out of her bed and is on her way.

Amy gives herself a few more to marvel over the downright adorable view of a two-year-old in slightly too big police pajamas standing on her toes to reach the door handle and then pushing the door open. If it was possible she’d spend another minute wondering how on earth her youngest baby got so big in what seems like no time at all - but there’s no time to waste.

 

Despite the ten minute headstart, the morning seems to fall into chaos the moment she steps out of the shower.   
Leah does not want to go to school and will break out into tears should someone as much as mention the word. Olivia does not want to eat breakfast but is thoroughly entertained by the prospect of playing with her pieces of toast until there’s butter in her hair. Jake has to microwave his coffee three times and Amy four because there’s no way they’ll have time to drink it all while it’s still hot.

Pretty much like she anticipated, then.

“We really should get some kind of honorary medal for surviving through mornings like these”, she mutters to her husband when he’s within her earshot longer than two seconds for the first time this morning.

“I’ll send a request to Holt”, he jokes back, busy brushing Olivia’s newly washed and no longer buttery curls while she’s distracted by an iPad game. “Oh, and babe, don’t forget Leah’s P.E. clothes.”

Amy freezes, green and pink school bag in hand. “Doesn’t she have P.E. Wednesdays?”

“No, they changed it to Tuesdays.”

“Crap. How did I miss that?” She bites her lip, trying and failing to repress the guilt of how she was literally  _ seconds _ away from sending her daughter to school without P.E. clothes, excluding her daughter from a class she loves and surely becoming a source of judgement for the teachers all in one, all because this piece of crucial information somehow slipped her mind. “Fuck. You know where they are?”

“Check her room?” Olivia’s hair is brushed, and Jake moves on to trying to get her to change out of her pajamas and into a more daycare-appropriate outfit.

“I just don’t understand how I missed it”, Amy whispers, and he shoots her an understanding smile. “I should be able to keep track of her damn P.E. class. Shit.”

“No, hey, don’t beat yourself up. I could get it for you - you have to leave in ten minutes.”

She snorts. “Since when do you keep track of time?”

“Since I married you, duh.” He lifts the half-dressed two-year-old up in his arms, resulting in more happy giggles. “Fine, I have an alarm on my phone to impress you.”

“Touché”, she retorts, but she does give him a quick peck on the lips before she rushes up the stairs to Leah’s room.

 

He does impress her - he always does - because he somehow convinces their oldest daughter school will be a super exciting adventure and not a literal nightmare and successfully gets both kids into one car while she takes the other one. She makes it to the precinct in time to enjoy a full cup of coffee before her briefing without having to microwave it, and it might just be the best coffee she’s had.   
  


~

 

“Mom!  _ Mom _ !” 

No matter how welcomed and relaxing a day at work without hearing that very word can be, it always sounds like music to Amy’s ears when she can end her work shift and go to pick up her kids from school and daycare. Leah jumps at her the way an overexcited puppy might jump at its owners, hugging her waist and telling her around a thousand details about her school day at the same time.

“I missed you too”, she laughs when there’s a break in the five-year-old’s storytelling. “But it sounds like you had a good day.”

“We had Art class”, Leah pants, out of breath from the talking. “We got to paint pictures of our family! Come! I wanna show mine before we go home!”

“Actually, I thought we might go to the lake and feed the ducks today when you’ve helped me pick up Olivia.” She treads lightly, knowing very well the anger that can sometimes occur when things don’t happen the exact way her daughter has imagined them. “Then Dad could meet us there.”

“Oh! Okay.” Leah shrugs. “But I still wanna show my picture.” She takes Amy’s hand, leading her into the classroom and to a table in the back where several watercolor paintings of typical six-year-old quality are laying side by side. “This is mine.”

If it’s possible to smile wider than she’s currently doing, Amy sure would like to see proof.

 

They make their way to the lake without major accidents, save a close call when Leah denies Olivia a piece of dried mango from her lunch box and Amy quickly has to break out another bag of dried fruit from her bag before the two-year-old starts wailing. The Brooklyn weather is unseasonably warm for a week into September, so both kids ditch their windbreakers with Amy and run down to the water with a small plastic box of bird seeds - bread is bad for ducks, Leah informed her last time she tried this with them - each.

It’s scary even when she’s only a few feet away. The water’s shallow and she’d save them in seconds should the unlikely occur and one of them fall in, but the anxiety still bites at her, saying she shouldn't have brought them to the water in the first place.

She needs to practice, though. Her therapist says so. Jake says so. Her anxiety is calling bullshit and she’s yelling at it not to. She may worry an unhealthy amount and it may be a thousand times worse with her kids - but even though they’re still young, Amy will be damned before she lets her worrying hinder these children to be the independent and brave souls she knows they are. 

It's a good thing she’s raising them with Jake.

She channels his words of  _ you’re a great mom and they’re always safe with you, they’re not going to just fall down and die on the spot  _ like a mantra and sits down on the grass, watching the way the sun reflects on the water and listening to the sound of her daughters laughing as the ducks fight for the bird seeds. Rays of sunlight are making her comfortably warm, and for a second she wonders if maybe this is heaven.

“Hey there.” Jake’s voice makes her jump despite its familiarity, startling her from her thought narrative. “Ten-four, Lieutenant Santiago?”

“Ten-four”, she confirms, smiling as Leah and Olivia both abandon duck-feeding for squeezing Jake’s legs tight and exclaiming  _ Daddy _ in choir. “And it’s Santiago-Peralta.”

“Must be a lucky guy, that Peralta.”

“The luckiest.”

“So humble.” He snorts before sitting down next to her. Their daughters return to the water’s edge, too entertained by throwing bird seeds and playing with sand to give their parents more than a short moment of attention right now. 

“The most humblest.” 

“So  _ you  _ can make up words, but I can’t?” He rolls his eyes. “I see how it is. How was your day?”

“I drank two full cups of coffee while they were still warm and went several hours without hearing the  _ Paw Patrol  _ theme once”, she muses. “But I missed my kids.”

“Aww, twinsies!” Jake shines up, raising his hand to high-five her. “I was going to say the exact same.”

 

They sit in silence for a minute, gazes focused on their daughters. They both know the peace won’t be long-lasting before one kid inevitably teases the other or has a breakdown when they’re out of seeds to throw, but it’s impossible not to love this rare moment with everyone together and relaxed. She watches Leah give her sister more bird seeds when hers run out and sees Olivia shine up with that uncannily Jake-like smile when her sister helps her throw a little further. It feels like days ago they brought home their first kid as a helpless infant already owning their whole hearts, seconds ago they did and felt the same way with their second. Somewhere in the constantly ongoing life puzzle, their babies have gone from literal ones to fully fledged children with opinions and interests of their own. Amy feels like they’re going to be graduating college tomorrow at this pace. It’s making her wish there was a way - perhaps some kind of supernatural method - to stop time for a while, but for now, this limited moment of temporary serenity is enough.

 

“Did you know”, Jake interrupts her thinking, “that today is our ten year anniversary?”

“Huh? For what?”

“Screw light and breezy. You know, the night you showed up outside my door and said you didn’t want to be just colleagues?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” She doesn’t dare shift her focus from children near water to him, but she takes his hand and holds it. “I had no idea you kept track of that, Mr. I-don’t-know-what-month-it-is.”

“Hey! Rude!” He flicks her in the shoulder. “But to be fair, it was Charles who reminded me. He had it written down.”

“Of course he had. Well, congrats to us, then. How do you suggest we celebrate?”

“One thing does come to mind.”

It’s her turn to flick him in the shoulder this time.“Considering our kids never sleep in their own beds by themselves and we don’t have a babysitter, I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“I could always ask Charles to emergency-babysit.”

“Charles would know  _ exactly _ what was going on.”

“Charles would be  _ so honored _ .”

“That makes it worse, babe.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He combs his right hand through the hair where he’s finding the odd greying strands now, another silver reminder of time’s passing. “Maybe we could leave them with my mom for a night this weekend? Take a night at a hotel or something.”

She laughs, shakes her head at the absurdity of just how much has changed in their ten years together and gives him a quick peck on the cheek before resting her head on his shoulder. “You know, there’s really no one else I’d rather plan sex five days in advance with. So there’s that.”

“That’s a relief”, he says in a jokeful tone. “Ditto.”

Amy almost has time to kiss him before Olivia falls in the sand and starts wailing, the peaceful moment passing as suddenly as it fell upon them.

 

Hours later when the kids are all asleep and she’s about to go to bed herself, she takes a second to admire Leah’s family painting now stuck to the fridge.

It’s not the most charming portrayal of herself she’s seen - although not bad for having been painted by a six-year-old - but it’s her family.

 

Some days are chaotic. Some days are beautiful. Most days are both. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did these two really get together early September? I don't know, but in Halloween III Jake refers to their relationship as having lasted a couple weeks, so I'm going with it.
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you didn't hate it! Writing these two as ultra-domestic with a house and two kids that are both actual kids and not babies was surprisingly fun. :)
> 
> When I have (or don't have, who knows maybe you're all scrolling past this) your attention, I do have another announcement - I'm writing another fic!!! Say whaaaaaaaat. jk. I swear I'm literally always writing something.
> 
> If I stick to my schedule (and I should, it's almost done), watch my tumblr (@amyscascadingtabs) and ao3 next weekend for a ~12k labor/delivery-fic which will have ALL the emotions. It has flashbacks, and squad texts, and a healthy amount of Peraltiago and baby fluff - WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT. I've been thinking about this for soooo long, writing since mid-September and it's finally aaalmost here! Stay tuned 'cause it'll be good.


	12. if we got nothing, we got us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New motherhood is many things - emotional, exhilarating and absolutely insane in the best way - but most of all at exactly eleven days in, Amy is finding it exhausting.
> 
> (But maybe it's worth it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mini-update for you! 
> 
> Title from Something I Need by OneRepublic.

New motherhood is many things - emotional, exhilarating and absolutely insane in the best way - but most of all at exactly eleven days in, Amy is finding it  _ exhausting _ .

 

Newborn babies eat every second to third hour. She knew this, obviously; she researched every single available fact and detail about infants not previously known to her and made meticulous notes in her binder months ago. What she failed to prepare for is the fact that this means  _ she’s _ never getting more than two hours sleep at a time. Even in between feedings, during the hours she could use to eat or sleep or get to work on the literal alpine mountain of laundry building in their bathroom, she struggles to tear herself away from watching the dozing newborn and so not much at all is getting done in their home for the moment. It frustrates her to no end. 

 

But how could she not be looking at her daughter at every given free moment?

She has four months left before she has to go back to work, and there’s already a tightening in her chest at the thought of leaving this child in the care of anyone other than her or Jake. It doesn’t matter whether Leah Santiago-Peralta is eating, sleeping, crying or even spitting up on them - Amy now knows precisely what baby puke running between your boobs and down your stomach feels like - there’s still this acute, unequivocal  _ love _ filling every fibre of her being every time she looks at her daughter, and it’s frightening and bizarre and so, so addictive. So addictive, in fact, that whenever Leah falls asleep, all Amy wants to do is keep staring at the tiny chest rising and falling. Closing her eyes from the sight of her daughter remains unappealing despite her own exhaustion. 

(In short, Amy’s not sure when she last slept for longer than an hour, and because of this her short-term memory and ability to focus are both playing hide-and-seek somewhere. Probably in the laundry mountain.)

 

After the sleep-deprivation in the list of things bothering her are the hormones. They were frustrating enough during the pregnancy - she only barely kept them in control at the workplace, breaking down over something trivial in a corner of the evidence lock up and emergency-texting Jake to come talk her down a number of times - and now they’re somehow  _ worse _ . She’s cried a whole of seven times before noon today; once because Jake was sweet and gave her coffee in bed, once because the heavenly liquid she’s missed  _ so much  _ got cold when Leah demanded food, once when she couldn’t find her most comfortable pair of maternity pants in the haphazard mess their bedroom has become, and four more times for reasons she’s already forgotten. Her short-term memory, as previously mentioned, is no longer present.

She already went almost nine damned months without feeling at all in control of her body or emotions. God, does she miss not having to bite her lip to keep from tearing up with frustration the moment something does not go her way and with happiness whenever anyone does something nice for her - she’d love for the concept to return any day now. 

(In the meantime, she’ll continue sobbing because Jake bought her favorite chocolate on his trip to the corner store and she can’t quite believe how perfect her husband is.)

 

Item number three in things currently bothering her is the lack of routine. The chaos, if you will. Their daughter is all too young for anything even closely resembling a routine yet, and so their days and nights as first-time parents are spent circling around the newborn reading into her every grunt or whimper. If she seems hungry, Amy will abandon whatever she’s doing in a matter of seconds; she’s developed an impressive super speed when it comes to answering her daughter’s cries. If she seems tired, Jake will be there quicker than she knew the man could transport to hold their daughter against his chest and walk laps round the apartment for as long as it takes for her to fall asleep. Sometimes she’ll hear him whisper to Leah in the most tenderhearted of voices while he’s doing it. It’s stories about all of the exciting adventures they’ll have when she gets older or declarations of love, and once or twice she’s overheard him tell her that her mom is the very best in the Universe and that she is so, so unfathomably lucky. 

(If Amy wasn’t already moved to tears by the sight of a visibly sleep-deprived Jake in NYPD sweats and unkempt hair holding  _ their child _ , hearing those words definitely made her turn on the waterworks.)

 

The noticeable lack of routine is not at all improved by the fact that they have new guests coming over for visits and baby-watching every day. Some - or perhaps just Charles - stay so long she wants to invent a law to allow her to arrest them for overstaying their welcome. While Amy more than anyone understands how impossible it is to keep away from this little bundle of perfection, who charms every human in a miles-wide radius when she’s awake and content enough to flash her literal baby browns and take a tight grip of someone’s index finger, she keeps wishing desperately for the constant visits to subside. She pushed a freaking human out of her mere days ago, can’t remember the last time she put on makeup or an item of clothing not chosen solely based on nursing-friendliness, and her protective instincts go haywire when Leah protests to being held by a visitor. All she wants is to retreat into a deserted cave with her baby and possibly Jake.  _ Not  _ serve her garbage father-in-law coffee and feel forced to put on a smile despite having slept a rough total of two hours the preceding night. 

(Leah proceeded to spit up all over Roger Peralta’s shirt ten minutes later, earning her a standing ovation by her dad for good taste the moment Karen and Roger left.)

 

She uses checklists only to remember requirements such as  _ eating  _ or  _ sleeping  _ or  _ showering  _ and  _ reminding Jake to do all these things _ . She takes naps so short they’re barely worthy of the title, because her daughter always seems to wake up just as Amy manages to close her eyes. She drinks small amounts of coffee again. She blatantly ignores her ambitions for a healthy diet, craving sugar and fast energy even more now than during the pregnancy. She lets Charles and Karen and even Sharon bring them food. She takes a few crucial minutes each day to simply  _ talk  _ to Jake, to let him assure her they’re doing okay, that the things they’re not getting quite right yet will be figured out eventually.

(The chaos is aggravating, but with him by her side, she can handle it.)

 

She handles it, because in the late afternoon of day eleven of parenthood, their daughter is awake and content at the same time for the longest consecutive moment in her life yet. For a full fifteen minutes, Leah watches her parents with a nearsighted gaze of part admiration and part confusion as they take turns talking to her. She even contributes with a few bubbling noises and the occasional wave of a fist herself. It’s the most reciprocated communication they’ve had with the infant in her short life thus far, addictive and spellbinding and leaving them in awe.

After this the newborn cries for twenty minutes until she finally passes out eating.

(“Truly my daughter”, Jake remarks. Amy rolls her eyes, but refrains from punching him in the shoulder, if only because it would entail taking a break from stroking soft baby cheeks with her index finger.)

 

She handles it, and toward the end of day eleven, Leah falls asleep on Jake’s chest in front of the first episode of Jeopardy her parents watch after her arrival. This night Amy doesn’t yell out a single right question. Instead, she rests her head on her husband’s shoulder and lets herself be hypnotized by the surprising length of her daughter’s eyelashes, by how cute her nose is and the adorableness of her intermittent sleepy grunts and short gurgles. She marvels over the surrealism of seeing her baby girl wear the white pajamas with a pattern of multi-colored stars Amy purchased months and months ago, unable to stop herself when walking past it in the store hours after her first ultrasound. She presses kisses to Leah’s forehead and cheeks when the perfection becomes too much to handle. Jake pretends to protest over not getting any of the love, acting like he’s not equally busy doting over the newborn grasping onto his hoodie with one of her fists, and Amy snorts and tells him he can handle it. Then she kisses him anyway.

(Her life may currently be in chaotic disarray, and she may have forgotten what it feels like to sleep for longer than an hour at a time or to wash her hair properly or to go a day without crying, but she falls asleep on the couch in front of Jeopardy together with her own little family, and she’s never been better.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be something else and then it didn't work out so I tried to rewrite it and still didn't like it so I just basically took away lots of stuff that didn't work and this is what we ended up with. Hope you enjoyed it at least a little bit!


	13. the way we complicate is simple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy takes a pregnancy test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Have you seen the... Oh."
> 
> title from birthday by all time low

Three minutes is such a  _ long time _ , she thinks as she sets the timer on her phone, keeping the peed-on plastic stick in a closed grip so she doesn’t have to see the result. 

She’s still not sure what she wants it to show.

 

From outside the door, she can hear Jake moving around in their apartment, completely oblivious to the major crisis his fiancée is going through. She’s curled up on the toilet hugging her legs and holding her thumb over the test’s digital screen, and she should probably tell him - scratch that, she should  _ definitely _ tell him, seeing as he’s the only plausible father of the potential fetus inside her and all - but she can’t make herself raise her voice to call for him. 

She takes a deep breath. Then another.

 

So yeah, Amy’s period is a few days late, and it could easily be stress, but work has been a lot and everything has been a lot and it’s possible she’s forgot her birth control once or twice this month and it’s possible she hasn’t remembered this means they need to use condoms to be on the safe side. Long story short, she  _ could _ be pregnant, a terrifying and life-changing possibility which in this moment frightens her half to death. It’s unplanned. They still haven’t had the much-needed conversation about kids. It’d clash with their wedding plans and her becoming a sergeant. There needs to be a minus sign on this test, and yet she keeps imagining a plus one staring her in the face.

 

She imagines the purity and magic of holding one of her nieces and nephews as newborns a thousand times intensified, a baby with Jake’s eyes or a toddler with his curls, sleepless nights with him by her side and watching a kid take their doubting first steps. She thinks about their mutual fawning over Terry’s daughters tiny shoes and the warmth in her heart when he so skilfully explained such an advanced concept as structural racism to young children, about seeing him with newborn Ava, and about the smile on his lips when it was her turn to hold the youngest Jeffords daughter. There’s the possibility of a plus sign on this test, of something, someone, growing inside of her - it sure would explain why she’s been so exhausted lately - and it freaks her out enough to start shaking with anxiety, but in a weird way, it also doesn’t.

 

Two minutes.

For someone who thinks of  _ everything _ , Amy Santiago never really thought about kids in a serious way, and she’s regretting it now. There’s an eventual version of the life calendar with space for them, of course there is, but she never truthfully imagined having to use it. She’s doing so good with her current one. Having a kid would change everything from her body to how she’d spend her time off duty to possibly the way she’s planned out most of her major life milestones in bolded letters, and she’s not quite sure she’s ready to change.

Then again, she wasn’t sure about being ready to change when Jake kissed her that day in the evidence locker, and now there’s an engagement ring on her left hand and a wedding planning binder on their coffee table. So maybe change isn’t always bad.

 

One and a half minutes.

“Ames?” Her fiancés voice is what eventually brings her out of the deep thinking, the tone of it alarmingly high. “Can I come into the bathroom?”

Her heart jumps, eyes darting to the carton on the sink whose text Jake can most definitely read.

“Why?”

“I can’t find my phone - I’m thinking I might have left it in here.” Now when he says it, she does see his phone on the bathroom counter. Next to the carton. _ Crap.  _ “Look, it doesn’t sound like you’re using the toilet or shower and we’re  _ engaged _ , I’m just going to come in.”

“Jake -” She tries to protest, but she did forget to lock the door and he enters, eyes darting around to look for his phone but getting stuck on her visibly anxious form.

“Babe, have you seen the…” He sees the phone, rushing to get it while also noting the damned pregnancy test carton. “Oh.”

“Indeed”, she mumbles.

“Is this - are you - Ames?”

“I’ll know in a minute.”

“Oh.”

“Mmhmm.”

“ _ Oh. _ ”

“We need to talk.”

“I’d say that’s an understatement.”

 

With one minute left, she starts telling him all her fears and worries, about her career and their apartment and everything that could go wrong, about the fear of them not being good parents and not loving their kid enough, about the money and planning and time them having a child demands. The timer on her phone goes off and he takes the test from her, placing it face-down on the floor so she can finish talking before they see the results.

Eventually she’s out of words, sitting down next to him and letting him hug her, letting her tears fall as he strokes her hair.

“You know”, he whispers in her ear, his voice shaking a little, too. “All the things you mentioned - we’d solve them. If we had kids, I would stay home more, for example.”

“You would?”

“Of course I would. You’re going to become the youngest female Captain of the NYPD, and while you if anyone would be able to combine that with motherhood, I’d  _ easily _ work less if it meant spending more time with my kid.”

She takes a shaky breath, trying to regain her composure.

“And all the other stuff you mentioned - we would solve that, too. Together”, he tells her, and she believes it. “Because I know there’s no way I wouldn’t love a kid who’s half you.”

“I know”, she mumbles. “I know - I know I’d love them, too. But I didn’t… I never thought about kids before you.”

“Ditto.”

“I just wanted to be married first. I wanted to  _ plan _ it.”

“Well”, he says, holding up the test stick in front of her eyes, calming smile on his lips. “You still can. This is negative.”

“ _ Oh thank god. _ ”

 

They sit in silence for a minute, him still stroking her hair while she takes deep breaths.

“Jake?”

“Mm-hmm?”  
  
“Do you think maybe - after we’ve been married for a little while - we could try for real?”

He chuckles softly, kissing her forehead twice. “I’ll make an appointment in our shared calendar.”

“It’s my body, I’m making the appointment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is written SO quickly jfc


	14. i'll make the moon shine just for your view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy's tired of being pregnant. Luckily, Jake is the ultimate husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "You did all this for me?"
> 
> title from someone to you by banners. this is one of my ultimate happiness songs, btw. if you've never heard it, you're missing out.
> 
> i've been watching a lot of colleen ballinger's vlogs recently and she complains a lot about being pregnant which kind of inspired this. plus i barely think i've written from the perspective of pregnant amy so, here goes <3

 

Amy Santiago is officially done with being pregnant.

 

Technically speaking, she’s supposedly not done with it for another enervating, aching and surpassingly emotional month yet, but in the fatigued sense of the word she is so, so  _ done _ . Like, if she as much as hears another whisper of anyone telling her how magical pregnancy is, she seriously might just give said person an uppercut to the face, done. 

 

She’s grateful she was even possible to get pregnant in the first place, happy both she and her baby is healthy, and she loves this little person more than words could ever describe, but whoever says it’s anywhere near magical desperately needs to reread Harry Potter. There was nothing magical in the ever-present sleepiness and the fifty percent of her brain capacity devoted to the question of  _ is this wave of nausea going to pass or do I actually need to find a place to throw up _ that signified the first trimester, nothing enchanting about the nosebleeds and headaches of the second one, and magic isn’t really her first thought when she has to stop after climbing one of five staircases to her apartment due to shortness of breath. It’s actually closer to the last. 

She sleeps in one-hour intervals between having to pee and getting uncomfortable, her back and feet seem to hurt constantly now, Braxton-Hicks arrive as an unwelcome surprise when she least expects it, and if that wasn't enough she now also has the displeasure of knowing how it feels like to be kicked in the ribs from inside. Pregnancy is a lot of things to Amy, but magical’s not one of them.

 

She’s home early today. It’s the new normal, she supposes, with her newly implemented shorter hours and additional days off until she goes on maternity leave. She’s not been out in the field for months now, yearns after it whenever Jake tells her about whatever case he’s working, but the fatigue pulsating through her veins at any given moment does make her secretly grateful for it. Non-pregnant Amy would have been baffled; eight months pregnant Amy just wants to sleep. She wants to get home, kick off her shoes and take a nap on the couch before Jake comes home, and she would be so close to get to do all that if only the damned elevator in their apartment building had been working. Which it’s not. Which means instead of a calm ten-second elevator ride she has to go through the torture of walking up five steep staircases. Non-pregnant Amy would have been slightly annoyed; eight months pregnant Amy pretty much wants to lay down on the grey stone floor and cry. 

 

It takes her twelve minutes to climb the five stairs. That’s a full nine more than usual, and it still leaves her a huffing, wheezing mess who has to sit down at the top of the stairs and catch her breath before even contemplating going into the apartment. So, yeah. She’s been better.

“You know”, she mutters to the bump she feels like is about 70 percent of her body right now, holding her hands to where she usually feels the kicks. “For such a rewarding result, you’re a very exhausting job.”

There’s a soft puff against her palm, then another, harder one.

“You can get out soon, you know”, she whispers. “It’s totally fine by me. Santiagos  _ are _ known for being early.”

Nothing.

“Right. You’re your dad’s kid. I get it.” 

There’s another kick, like her baby’s trying to confirm the last statement. Amy just snorts before grabbing hold of the rail and standing up as smoothly as possible when eight months pregnant. (Really, it’s not very smooth at all, but her standards are pretty low at the moment.)

 

She’s expected to come home to a peaceful silence and the opportunity to nap on the couch in peace, so when she feels the smell of food and hears what sounds like Taylor Swift’s  _ Shake It Off  _ coming from inside their apartment, it takes her by surprise.

“Hello?”

“Ames!” Jake’s in the kitchen, wearing sweatpants and a slightly sauce-stained grey t-shirt, looking up from what looks to be an only slightly burnt lasagna to give her a wide smile. “Welcome home, cutest wife in America, the world, the universe -”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“So much for compliments”, he jokes, letting go of the lasagna form to come over and hug her, giving her a chaste kiss to the lips. “I had off today.”

“Sorry.” She sighs into his shoulder. “I have pregnancy brain.”

“Never thought the day would come when I remembered more than you.”

“Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts.”

“I am”, he grins. “Greatly. You ready for your surprise?”

She tilts her head to the side. “My surprise?”

“Yes, your surprise. Remember how you complained yesterday about how neither the stroller nor the crib was ready?”

“You fixed them?”

“Oh, no.” He fakes a shudder.“I wouldn’t dare to doom our child like  _ that _ . I had Terry fix them. Which means all the big things are ready, which means all that’s left on our to do-list are small projects that won’t take a full day.”

“Oh my god.” She has to wipe away a tear with the back of her hand, because nice gestures and pregnancy has that kind of effect on her almost all the time now, and the sole thought of realising all their big projects are done is an elephantine weight lifting off her shoulders. “That’s my surprise?”

Jake kisses her forehead. “Part of it.”

“ _ Part of it? _ ”

“Well, you see, I also cooked. One of the recipes from the so called idiot-proof cookbook Charles gifted us for the baby shower. I even got it all right on the first try!” The enthusiasm in his tone is a little bit over the top. She narrows her eyes for a moment, and he budges. “Fine, okay, second try. I burnt the first. But two tries aren’t that terrible!”

“It does smell delicious-”

“And”, he continues rambling without letting her finish the sentence, still a gleeful smile on his lips and a gleam to his eyes making him look like an overexcited puppy caught in an adult man’s body. “Since you were mentioning you wanted ice cream yesterday, I got you some. I didn’t know what you wanted, though, because no offense, but your taste buds change  _ all the time _ . So I got you like, five different kinds.”

“You really didn’t have to.” She’s trying to laugh, but it comes out more of a sniffle. 

“I know.” He shrugs, putting his arms around her again to draw her close. “But I wanted to. So I thought first we can eat dinner. After that you can take a bath to relax - with or without me. Then we can do the super weird super awkward birthing class exercises we both hate, and as a reward for doing them, we can be sloths on the couch with all of the ice cream and look at baby names for the rest of the night.”

 

She kisses him. It must take him by surprise, because she feels him gasp slightly before kissing her back, softly and caring and with a hand running through her hair to rest on her shoulder. The other hand moves on top of her stomach, searching for a reaction and being met by a stubborn kick that has him smiling against her lips. Tears are still running down her cheeks, unrelenting due to how  _ sweet _ his gesture is, and when they eventually part it is so she can wipe them away.

“You did all this for me?”

“For you”, he confirms, still grinning when he feels another kick. “And, well, for Taylor too.”

“No babies in this household are being named Taylor.”

“Not even if they’re born to the one song I got to add to the playlist?”

“Not even then.”

“ _ See _ \- this is why we need to look at baby names!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a stressed out mess currently, from school and work and life, so i inevitably doubt the quality of this but i hope you enjoyed it anyway. love you. x-mas fics are coming, hopefully, including a couple baby or kid ones!


	15. you'll never see the end of the road while you're travelling with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Amy take a one-month-old to the mall for Christmas shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas update! This is honestly just a thousand headcanons and random thoughts of mine inspired by cute families I've seen while being out Christmas shopping myself and then I couldn't get this out of my head so.. here you go.
> 
> (Title from Don't Dream It's Over, originally by Crowded House but if you're a cool kid like me, you know that the Glee Cast version is the way to go.)

Amy’d had a decent night’s sleep two nights ago.

That must be the sole reason she didn’t find the idea of bringing her month-old daughter and husband out with her to the mall for Christmas shopping to be completely as bonkers as she's finding it at the moment, she figures. Non-sleep-deprived Amy is frighteningly optimistic and sleep-deprived Amy has a few axes to pick with her.

Parenting is one challenge and Christmas shopping is another; the two together appears to her now as a full-blown trial. Case in point, they've yet to make it out of the garage and they’re already struggling.

 

To be fair, Leah is actually the least of their problems for the moment. Amy’s just checked off  _ nurse a screaming baby in the backseat of a car  _ on her growing list of mom experiences, so their baby girl is full and content and even accepts being transferred to her stroller once she’s fallen asleep on Amy. The real problem is her parents.

“Are you sure we have everything we need? Change of clothes? Diapers? Wipes? Blanket?” Jake’s rummaging around in the diaper bag, trying to see if something’s missing.

“My diaper bag packing skills are flawless, thank you very much.”

“Okay, then. You think Lee is too hot? Too cold?”

“I think we would be exposed to rather audible protests if she was.”

“True, true. And what do we do if she gets too hot or too cold?”

“If she's too hot we take off her coat. If she's too cold, we give her the blanket. Did you bring her formula?” They're shooting the questions back and forth, much as if they were running lines of a play together or helping each other study for a critical exam. 

“And hot water.”

“Good.” She takes a deep breath. “Do I look presentable enough to be out in public?” After having spent the better part of a month in nursing-friendly tank tops, hoodies and leggings, being back in her old jeans and a magenta blouse plus wearing makeup on the same day feels like attending a gala for multi-millionaires. 

“Duh, Ames.” Considering the restricted amount of sleep they’re both running on today, Jake looks unfairly unaffected by it as he looks her up and down. “You’re gorgeous. Stunning. Hot as heck.”

“Six weeks, Peralta. Keep it in your pants.”

He snorts, leaning over the stroller to adjust the fluffy, white sweater with little ears they’ve dressed their daughter in today. Any clothing item for babies with ears on is an instant buy - has been since they first started shopping for them. “So what we’re getting is the last Christmas gifts you couldn't get online and a Christmas outfit for Lee, correct?”

“That and proof we can survive a few hours in the mall as a family.”

“Ah, so we're doing this to boost our parenting egos”, he laughs. “We’re going to rock it, babe.”

She shakes her head. “I still feel like we're missing something, but we can't be. Leah's had food, new diaper, we have all her stuff, all our stuff - we should be all set.”

 

They make it all the way into the elevator and almost into their first store before it hits her, making her freeze so abruptly she almost crashes into another shopper.

“Wait - Jake, did  _ we  _ have breakfast?”

 

Their first stop of Christmas shopping ends up being brunch at a café. Clearly an unnecessary and fully unavoidable expense, she complains when they've ordered, but remembering to feed themselves hasn't been their number one priority lately and they deserve this, Jake reminds her once they're seated. And fine, she'll admit the avocado toast with beet hummus and the cup of actual coffee, consumed at a regular pace with the love of her life across from her and their daughter fast asleep with her arms above her head in the stroller next to the table, tastes heavenly. 

Maybe this shopping trip won't be the catastrophe she anticipated after all.

 

Her hope lasts all the way through the meal and the purchasing of the first two gifts - art supplies and mugs saying  _ world’s best grandmother _ , ironically being gifted to both Karen and Camila. It begins to falter along store number three, searching for some sort of outlandish kitchen appliance noone in the world except Charles could ever need, when an uncoordinated shopper bumps into their stroller and the sudden sharp movement makes Leah let out a few whimpering noises of protest. Jake has to hold Amy back from outright attacking the stranger who collided with them, but through some kind of magic, all survive unharmed.

Store four plays noisy Christmas music. This worries both parents to a beginning, and it does indeed wake their daughter up, but only to fire off what looks mysteriously similar to a smile and wave her fists in excitement.

“You're so right there, Lee”, Jake says as he lifts her up so she can see what’s going on. “All I Want For Christmas Is You is  _ way  _ too catchy to be asleep to.”

“I thought your favorite Christmas songs were the ones Taylor Swift recorded”, Amy points out, inspecting a Christmas-themed pajama onesie. “Does she need more pajamas?”

“Taylor Swift?”

“Ha, ha.”

“I can’t speak for Taylor”, he grins, “and for Leah, technically, no. But those have reindeer feet, so I’m voting buy.” The one-month-old grunts. “See! She agrees.”

Amy rolls her eyes. “Clearly. Whatever - they’re on sale and they’re adorable.”

“She’s going to make one cute reindeer. That’s right”, he agrees to his daughter’s string of incomprehensive noises. “You’ll out-cute every single one of your cousins! Their parents are going to be so mad!”

“Jake.”

“It’s true! They will be!”

“No, not that - it’s just, I’m pretty sure she just got poop on your shirt.”

“ _ Damn it _ !”

 

Twenty minutes, two outfit changes and one purchase of baby pajamas with reindeer feet later, they’re almost done with their shopping. Amy’s about to lead her family into the paper supply store to buy some new binder clips as a gift to herself - maybe she’ll even find some reasonably priced Christmas-themed decoration tape if she’s lucky - when Jake comes to a sudden halt with the stroller in the middle of the walkway, staring at a lengthy line starting a few feet in front of them.

“Ames, they have a mall Santa! We have to get a picture!”

“With that line?” Fear is flashing in front of her eyes, every plausible nightmare scenario playing on a mental movie screen as she feels the anxiety make her chest heavier. 

“Yes! Lee’s sleeping, and it’ll be perfect!” Sensing her doubt, he places a hand on her shoulder and a soft kiss to her cheek. “Come on, babe. You could put it in your scrapbook of her first year.”

Another image appears, this one of the classical  _ baby crying in Santa’s lap _ -picture seen a million times before, taking up a page in the scrapbook she started on one of the rare days where she’d had more than five hours of sleep. She imagines writing a cute caption for it with gold metallic sharpie, placing a few tasteful Christmas stickers around it, and screw her nervosity, she’s totally falling for Jake’s idea. 

“Fine”, she gives in, and she swears just his smile is enough to make it worth it. 

 

Leah sleeps her way through most of the queue, making her parents cautiously optimistic. Jake leaves to get them both hot chocolates with peppermint, and for a while she's almost finding herself enjoying the line. They entertain each other by whispering their guesses on what the random shoppers they see are most likely to be arrested for, agreeing on the most ludicrous of backstories for the laugh of it.

They're new parents who hover over the stroller the second their daughter makes a distraught noise, but they're also still Jake and Amy, two cops who miss their first job while working hard on their new one. 

 

Amy’s in the middle of telling the story about how the older lady in a green coat with orange lipstick is most definitely a former embezzler when she's interrupted. Leah makes a few squeaking noises, instantly capturing her parents attention, and once she has it she starts screaming bloody murder.

In the middle of a line. With people everywhere. With people everywhere giving them  _ looks _ , making Amy’s cheeks heat as she lifts her daughter to her chest and tries to bounce her, only to get nothing but more screaming.

“It’s been a couple hours since she last ate”, she tells Jake, trying to overpower the infant’s crying. “But we’re in the middle of a line. There's people everywhere.”

“I could leave and give her a bottle”, he blurts out. “You keep our place in line and we'll be back in no time.”

“Formula and water is in the diaper bag”, she tells him, stress levels still rising as she places her upset daughter back in the stroller. “Try to be quick. Or not too quick, she’ll throw up. But try to get back here.”

She thinks she hears a word of confirmation from him before he leaves the line with Leah, though it's difficult to make sure in the sea of strangers discussions and babies screaming.

 

Her heart rate has finally reached a normal pace again when the line starts moving. Quickly. Way faster than it was moving before.

And Jake’s nowhere to be seen.

Amy turns on her heel, prepared to return to the end of the line, but it’s grown longer now and she can barely see where it begins. She's stuck where she is, and then it's time for a ten-kid-family (none of whose kids are screaming, to make her increasingly frustrated) to take their pictures and she's next in line, feeling her heart rate increase for the zillionth time of this shopping trip.

“Ma’am?” A young man in an elf costume too short for his lanky body is giving her a bored look. “You're next.”

“I'm not - my family's here, too, they left but they’ll be back in just a second - “

“Have you seen the line?”

“I have”, she tells him, trying to recall her authoritative sergeant-look, the one reserved for work and when Jake forgets to do the dishes for the third day in a row. “My family's on their way.”

“All due respect, ma’am”, the man mumbles without much respect in his tone, “but it's lunch time on a Saturday. We’re too busy to wait. Either you take the picture on your own -“

“Obviously not.”

“ - Or you leave the queue, please.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

She could protest, fight, probably threaten the man in some way, but she's tired and embarrassed and aware how much precious energy all of the above options would take. It's not worth it, no matter how much time this means they wasted in line.

“Whatever”, she shrugs. “For the record, I’m leaving you a  _ terrible  _ Yelp review.”

The harsh threat doesn't seem to have quite the devastating impact she had hoped for, and it's first when she's a good twenty feet away she realizes it's not even for sure this mall Santa is  _ on _ Yelp, but she considers it better than nothing.

 

She finds her family on a bench outside the pen store. Leah’s stopped screaming and is sucking on the bottle of formula like the pro her fully unbiased parents consider her to be, staring up at Jake while she does. His gaze is equally focused on her, mimicking her heart-eyed expression while holding the bottle in a skillful grip. They’re so caught up in the moment they barely seem to notice her nearing them, leaving her to observe them in all their father-daughter bonding glory.

He doubted he’d be good enough, she remembers, referred to his lack of paternal role models and belief in Yahoo! Answers as the most trustworthy source for raising children when she asked why on earth he wouldn’t be.

Imagining he’d be anything but amazing had seemed a preposterous thought to her back then. It’s even more so now, watching him grow more comfortable with the role for each day and wondering how on Earth it all turned out this perfect.

“You’re staring at me”, he notes without looking up at her. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no, the opposite.” She sits down next to him. “I got kicked out of line.”

“No! You have to give them a bad Yelp review.”

“I know!”

“Scandalous! Right, Lee?” Their daughter has finished her meal and appears to be satisfied with life again as Jake holds her head over his shoulder. “She agrees, I can tell. Are we doing another try with the picture, then?”

“With that line? No way.”

“We could come back tomorrow?”

She looks at him, mouth slightly agape with surprise. “You're saying you’d do this all over again?”

“Why not? It was nice to be out as a family”, he blushes. “Wow - I've grown so lame.”

“You’re not lame”, she promises, kissing his cheek. “You’re sweet. Can we still go check out that paper supply store?”

Before he has the chance to answer, Leah promptly spits up all over the back of his shirt, causing Jake to take on a mortified look when he realizes he’s already used up his one change of clothes.

 

They have no other choice but to go home after that, having accomplished neither mall Santa pictures nor a visit to the paper supply store.

It couldn't matter less to Amy - not when she gets to have these kind of domestic family adventures with her two favorite people in the world. Not even missing out on new binder clips could take that happiness away from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and thank you for reading ❤︎ this one is shock-full with sweet details and funny jakes so please do tell me some or all of your faves if you had any!


	16. all i know is i wanna be here with you from now on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month old babies are really great at sleeping at night, said no one ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiii!! long time no see, in this collection. how are you enjoying season 6?? i'm loving it and soo happy we're getting a season 7. nbc is just blessing us over here.  
> i've not had a ton of time to write recently and honestly not a ton of inspiration either, but i'm feeling more and more like baby fic recently, so... here goes! it's just a bunch of baby fluff and jake inner monologue tbh. pretty much what you're here for, i'm guessing.
> 
> title from aquaman by walk the moon.

Jake has a vague memory of a time where their bed was the perfect size for both him and Amy, but he’ll admit said memory is growing hazier by the day.

To be fair, they weren't  _ planning _ on letting their newborn sleep in their bed. They had a clear and structured plan, outlined in the first of many parenting binders, of keeping their baby in her cot right next to Amy’s side of the bed for the first few months before transferring her over to her own room. 

Then they actually became parents.

To a child that at exactly one month and three days of age refuses to fall asleep anywhere but on one of her parents, prefers sleeping that way, and will - if they're lucky - sometimes accept her baby nest at night, provided it's right in the middle of the bed with one parent on each side of it.

No matter how cozy it is to have her near, Jake has been doing an awful lot of googling on the pricing and reviews of king size beds lately.

 

He supposes a bigger bed wouldn't help him with the other issue keeping him from sleep. It's not been more than an hour since he kissed his wife goodnight and crept underneath the covers, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s forehead and watching her yawn in reaction before closing his eyes, and he's already wide awake after Leah woke him up screaming bloody murder right in his ear twenty minutes ago.

She's eaten now - to be fair, he agrees with her that being hungry’s  _ the worst _ \- but instead of going straight back to sleep like she can usually do after night feeds, she just won’t sleep. They’ve burped her, changed a diaper and played the white noise music which seems to always be sounding through their home nowadays, but the only thing that’s keeping their newborn from outright screaming is one parent walking around holding her to their chest, lightly bouncing her. 

 

It’s not their first case of nights like these in their first, intense month of parenthood, but in contrast to the previous nights, Jake goes back to work tomorrow.

“You have to sleep”, Amy protested when he offered to do the soothing of crying baby. “You can’t go back to work without having slept.”

He protested back, arguing that he’s been sleep-deprived at work plenty throughout his career - the time he made Charles pretend to be a dead body and sprayed ketchup over his friend only one of many occasions - but she wouldn’t have it. She left the room with Leah for a few minutes, coming back with a seemingly sleeping baby whom she successfully transferred to the baby nest.

That was two minutes ago, not enough time for Jake to fall asleep again but apparently enough for Amy, and when the wailing starts anew, his wife straight out groans in frustration.

“I’ll get her”, he offers then, already sitting up in bed and lifting Leah to his chest the way that has become second nature by now. Amy mumbles something inaudible, likely attempting to stop him again, but he's left the room before she has the chance to do anything but go back to the sleep she so badly deserves.

 

He walks a few laps around the living room before his daughter’s desperate cries subside, hushing and stroking her back through the purple striped pajamas until her face is no longer red from exertion, until she's quietly fussing rather than screaming her little lungs out.

For a seven-and-a-half-pound person, their kid sure has a powerful voice.

“It would be a lot easier if you could talk, you know”, he whispers to her when they move from the living room to the nursery. “Tell us what’s wrong. Think you can work on that?”

The request gives him another upset cry. He reads it as a negative response.

Jake sits down with her in the comfortable combined arm and rocking chair the Santiago family gracefully gifted to them, hoping she’ll accept the slight change and taking a deep breath of relief when she does. One of her fists grab onto his t-shirt, and she’s not falling asleep, but she’s calming down.

 

Right now he’s ironic when he asks her to speed up growing. Though he could pee his pants with excitement over what it will be like to have a kid that walks and talks and sleeps more than two hours at once, time is swooping by at an alarming rate as is. He’s been a dad for one, short, intense month, and already Leah is an inch longer, a pound and a half heavier, a little less terrifyingly fragile in his arms. She sleeps and eats at what vaguely resembles a schedule, has mastered the art of nursing without making both Amy and herself cry and is starting to accept him feeding her with a bottle. Every day there seems to be a new noise, a new grimace, a new way to move her arms and accidentally hit herself in the face, and every day his already overpowering love for her grows.

 

Jake's almost about to consider his mission of calming a fussy baby successful when he notices her doing a too-sharp inhale. Barely able to brace himself for the inevitable, he listens to her cry out another time, heartbreaking and loud enough for neighbors to hear. He stands up with her again, rocking, trying to see if the combination of movement and the unicorn lovey from her crib can make her relax. He then fights the temptation to make a full-on victory gesture when it, eventually, does. There's a display of framed pictures hanging over the crib, and he stops in front of it, watching them without giving up the gentle rocking.

Two ultrasound pictures - one from the first time they got to see and hear a fluttering heartbeat on the screen, one from later on when they could see a spine and legs and arms and the cutest little nose in profile. A black and white newborn picture, Leah just hours old, in between. A selfie they took with one of the positive pregnancy tests, grinning at each other in disbelief. One picture each of them holding her, looking equally in awe of this little person that's now keeping them up at night. A piece of quote art Jake found on Etsy, saying  _ you are the best thing that's ever been mine _ . 

 

He has to get up for work in five hours, and even if he does get any sleep tonight it’s not going to be enough - yet as he hears a somewhat content sigh from Leah and sees her yawn, he can’t make himself care. Though he was well aware he’d love his kid to the moon and back, he worried and fretted about whether he could have inherited his own father’s crappy parenting skills. He’s still unsure about a lot of things, but as he sits back down in the armchair and draws up his legs so she can lay against his thighs, and she stretches out her arms over her head to then hit herself on the nose when they come back, gasping with surprise, he’s certain a lack of love is not the problem.

“I hope you know we love you”, he tells her, trying to flatten the dark hair that prefers sticking up like a mohawk. “It’s hard to know sometimes. But I really hope so.” 

“I love you”, he assures her another time, her hands gripping onto both of his index fingers as he all but attacks her with kisses across her belly and face. She scrunches her nose and forehead slightly, but accepts, used to it at this point. “Your mom loves you, your grandparents, all your friends - aunt Rosa and aunt Gina, uncle Terry, your uncle Charles probably loved you before you even existed at all, grandpa Holt…” Jake smiles at the memory of his captain visiting them in the hospital their second day there, remembering how he’d been impressed by his daughter for putting an actual smile on the usually so dead-pan man’s face in mere seconds.

“You’re a very loved kid.”

Leah grunts to this. He decides to interpret it as agreement.

 

When she starts fussing yet another time, he sings to her. It’s mostly Taylor Swift songs, mixed with a mellow version of  _ I Want It That Way  _ \- whatever’s playing inside his head in the middle of the night. Even with his mediocre singing voice, singing to her has become one of his favorite things to do just because he adores her reaction to it. She'll stare at him in awe, take on an expression like she's actually  _ listening _ , sometimes trying to wave and kick to the melody. 

Had someone told him a year ago that  _ this _ is why’d he be awake at 2.30 a.m., Jake's certain he would have laughed, but now it seems the most natural thing in the world.

 

“Hey there.”

He's halfway through an acapella version of  _ Long Live _ , Leah's eyes opening and closing like she's about to fall asleep but stopping herself from doing so, when he hears Amy's voice. She's leaning against the doorframe, wistful smile on her lips looking at them, and he wonders quietly to himself how on Earth she manages to make one month postpartum and the old oversized NYPD shirt she uses for pajamas look a million dollars. “Is she sleeping yet?”

“Nah. World’s too interesting.” He jokefully narrows his eyes at Leah, saying the next words with over-the-top enthusiasm. “But you know what happens when you don’t sleep? You get overtired! And I’m pretty sure you enjoy that even less than we do!”

She gives him a blank stare, and if she’d been a snarky teenager and not a one-month-old infant, Jake imagines she’d be saying something like  _ yeah, so what _ and stomp off to slam her bedroom door.

Amy snorts before sitting down on the long-pile rug next to the armchair.  “You should go to sleep”, she coerces, squeezing his thigh. “Both of you, but especially the one who has work tomorrow. I’m serious.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine, Ames. Really. I’ll miss her like hell tomorrow, anyway.”

“I get it.” She nods, caressing one of Leah’s fists. “But you’ll be okay. I’ll text you updates.”

“Every half hour?”

“What she’s doing, how she’s doing, pictures, film clips”, she assures him. “All of it. Plus you’ll be home early.”

“Still too long”, he mumbles.

“I know.”

 

Leah begins to whimper, and their focuses shift instantly back to her. Jake stands up with her, starting the rocking and bouncing anew for what feels like the twentieth time that night.

“She's going to miss you too, you know”, Amy whispers. “We both are.”

“Well, I’ll miss you two more, so I'm winning.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a soft affection to it. He supposes she is the one person who could tell him she loves him with an  _ eye-roll  _ of all things.

Leah yawns, her little hands moving again in an attempt to grip his t-shirt, and then she finds one of his arms and it's like he's being carefully hugged by a twenty-inch, not-yet-eight-pounds body. It’s the actual sweetest thing he's seen tonight.

He tears up; of course he tears up. That's pretty much what he does in life now, but it's okay, because Amy's doing the same watching them, wiping hormone-fuelled tears away with the back of her hand.

“The only thing better than her”, she says, voice hushed, “is seeing you with her. It's the best thing I know.”

“I just want to do a good job.”

“You already are.”

“I have to leave her for a full day tomorrow. ”

“You're going to be okay, Jake.”

_ Easy for you to say _ , he wants to argue.  _ You get to stay home all day looking after our daughter and reading through study material for the lieutenant’s exam _ . 

But 2.30 a.m. is not the peak time to be jealous of their daughter’s physical dependence on Amy, so he stays quiet.

 

The whole room is near silent, save the white noise machine still playing from its place in the shelf, when he realizes.

“Ames, I think she's sleeping.” 

Leah's eyes are closed, the fussing finally ceased, and he's scared to say the words out loud in case she’ll be screaming against the next second, but she doesn't and Amy's eyes widen in awe.

“God, you're amazing.” She stands up, kissing his cheek and giving the snoozing infant the amazed, infatuated look he's seen near daily on his wife's face for a month now. “Now let's go back to sleep before she wakes.  _ Quick _ .”

 

Amy's out like a light soon as her head hits the pillow. He stays awake a few more minutes, watching his daughter, the way her little chest rises and falls, the way her miniature fingers twitch when she's dreaming. 

Tomorrow, he's going to go do the job he's actually hired for, the job which used to be his everything at one point in time and the job he has missed, if only slightly, this month.

He's almost dreading it, this ocean of time away from the person who gave him the job title seeming much more important to him now, but he's doing it anyway.

He has to save up for that king-size bed somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3  
> hope you enjoyed this. please let me know your favorite ways of me trying to describe one month babies and if you enjoyed the image of jake singing taylor swift to his daughter. kudos and comments sponsor jake's king-size bed

**Author's Note:**

> -I am amyscascadingtabs on tumblr. If you do want to leave baby or kid-related prompts for this fic you’re more than welcome to! <3


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